The Darkest Night
by bookmistress
Summary: story i did concerning Mordred. Not set exactly in the world of Marion Zimmer Bradley but from my own fevered imagination. Sorry if the layout is difficult to read.


Prologue

The crows and the flies were the only things that moved around freely, everything else either was still or crawled around in agony. Corpses littered the ground. All stained with blood and distorted by the mist that covered the area, they seemed to be inhuman, just mounds of earth from a distance. Only the cries of the injured and the stench could tell someone that a battle had taken place.

A crow that had been gorging contentedly on a body suddenly turned its head away from its meal and let out a loud caw, another crow followed and another and another before quickly taking flight. Figures had started to come forward through the mist, both men and women; they stopped walking as soon as they came near the first line of corpses as if waiting for instructions as small carts came to a halt behind them. One figure stood slightly in front of the rest; their face was covered by the hood of their plain brown cloak, the rest of their clothing was the same, a loose light brown tunic was tucked into dark breeches and a sword hung at their left side. A large satchel which was also of poor material hung at the figure's right side, full to bursting, the faded material and the frays around the strap showed that it had been frequently used and the different coloured stains suggested that it had been taken to many different situations. Indeed this had been, and still was the case as it was now full of bandages and herbal remedies ready to be used. There was a brief pause from the shadowy figures, all standing stock still. Then they moved in, each person desperately checking the bodies to see who was living. More often than not they would roll over a body, check for a pulse and then move on to the next body. However there were still cries for help or mercy from those who were still alive meaning that one of the newcomers would instantly rush over in their direction, even rarer was when one of the intruders would check for a pulse and find one. Shouts went up whenever this happened, "Over here!", "This ones still alive, bring the stretchers!" Men carrying the stretchers would run over and unroll them and try to quickly load the wounded onto them, then have to step over the bodies of others to get them into the carts.

The leader of the group had followed in a similar pattern but had been unsuccessful in finding anyone still alive. Then they came onto a body which was lying a small distance from the rest, lying on his back with an arm draped across his stomach, he looked like they could have been sleeping if not for the gash on his cheek and the amount of blood coming from a wound just above his hip. The hooded figure quickly moved over to him and putting a hand to his neck found a pulse, faint but still there.

"Over here, this one" a woman's voice came from beneath the hood. She quickly applied pressure to the wound with one hand and with the other reached into the satchel and pulled out a long strip of cloth and bound the wound, which on closer inspection wasn't as deep as it looked. Two of the helpers appeared at her side, both with a frown on their faces- they had had no luck finding anyone alive. She undid the fastening at her cloak and handed it to the nearest of the two, "Here, get two spears and tie this to them, then put him onto it and carry him to the camp." The voice was snappy and commanding, and both men knew it would be best to follow her instructions.

**-0-**

A while later, she watched as the few remaining survivors were taken back to the camp. She had never seen so few survivors from one battle, and she knew if she had taken a side there would be even fewer. However this wasn't the Britons fighting an army of another country, this was Britons fighting Britons. All because of a quarrel in the royal family. Her thoughts then wandered over wounds she had seen on the living. This was going to be a long day. Healing them- that would be relatively easy. But with Arthur dead and with no clear succession, who was going to heal the land?

Chapter One:

At First Glance

A dull throbbing ache in his side forced him to wake up, which he did in stages. First came the stench of blood, secondly the sound of movement and the flapping of a tent entrance blowing in the wind. It was then that Mordred realised he was alive, and with that realisation a hundred memories raced back into his head; the battle, the fight with Arthur, Arthur's face as he fell, Excalibur slicing thorough his side, and the feeling of despair and failure as he prepared to die. He opened his eyes, at first the sudden light made him quickly close them, so he opened them again slowly. The first thing he noticed was that he was under a bright red tent- Arthur's colour, the Pendragon red. The second thing he noticed was that the area around his hips felt very tight- for some reason that made him wary. Who would rescue him after the battle? Was it one of his mother's servants? He knew that she wouldn't come all the way down from Orkney to the fields of Calmlan just to save him but he knew that Morgause wouldn't want her only bid for the throne dead. She would send someone else to do her bidding as was her way. A quiet low moan to his right cut his thoughts short, if it had been his mother who had organised this she wouldn't have bothered to save anyone else. Mordred looked over to see if it was anyone he recognized- he had no such luck. Whoever it was had so many bandages around their face that it was impossible for Mordred to pick out any recognizable features, he wasn't even sure that they were awake; the man's uncovered eye was still closed.

A loud cry of pain from outside made Mordred more aware of his situation. If he was in Arthur's camps and in the hands of Arthur's loyal followers, he had only been saved so that he could be publicly executed. Mordred felt a little fear crawl up his spine at the thought, but then Mordred thought that if he had been captured by Arthur's followers, surely they would just have let him bleed to death. Perhaps he was in the hands of his own army (or its remnants), maybe they were using the only form of shelter they could find. If that was the case, and Arthur was dead while he was alive, that meant one thing.

He was the new High King.

Another shiver went up his spine, this one of excitement. Mordred the High King of the Britons, Mordred the High King, High King Mordred. The titles went round his head. He allowed those thoughts to fill him; it meant all the secrets, the lies and the plotting had all been worth it. This was what he had been conceived and raised for. Despite the fact that others had been favoured for the throne- he was the only heir. Illegitimate, yes but Arthur's only son. Mordred was happy and content as he had never been before. Nothing could ruin it for him now- except the sneaky voice in his head saying "What if Arthur is not dead?" He tried to reason with himself, Arthur had received a fatal wound so there could be little chance for him to survive; but he was alive even with his wound, which to him at least, had felt fatal. Mordred reasoned with himself a little further; if Arthur had somehow survived and it was Morgause or his followers who had saved him, they would have left Arthur stranded or finished him off themselves- he hoped. He would have to find out and prepare himself if the worst happened.

Then the entrance to the tent was opened sharply and in stepped the oddest woman Mordred had ever seen. She was wearing breeches and a loose tunic and a satchel was at her side. Mordred searched his memory, he had never seen her at Orkney, he was sure he had never seen her at Camelot.

"Ah, I see your awake, that's good." Her voice was brisk and although she was smiling it had little warmth to it; Mordred simply nodded; his jaws felt like they were stuck together. She walked quickly over to the other bed as Mordred tried again to see if he could remember her. She had a mane of red hair, a small pale but freckled face and her eyes were an unusual dark blue. So far- nothing, he had never seen her before so he watched her as she gently placed her hand on the arm of the unconscious man, his uncovered eye flickered open. "You need to drink", she helped the man sit up and brought out a water skin from her satchel and then held it to his mouth. Hearing the man sip down the water made Mordred realise how thirsty he was and he forced his jaws apart.

"When do I get food or drink?"

The woman was silent for a moment before she replied "When I have finished helping him, and when there is food and drink ready for you, that's when." She hadn't even bothered to look at him. Mordred felt a little bubble of anger grow inside him- who was she to talk to him like that.

"Where am I? And who are you?" He asked, this time he got a reaction.

The woman pulled the water skin away slowly from the man and turned to face him, took a deep breath and said "You are in my camp, not in Arthur's or yours, you are under my watch and under my care. As for who I am, suffice it to say that I don't work for you or Arthur or anyone else. Understand?"

Mordred was stunned, not only because a woman would dare talk to him like that but the fact that she was working under her own agenda. He decided it would be easier if he was civil; her eyes were boring into him and she looked like someone not to be taken lightly.

"I understand" he replied "I was only wondering." Mordred hoped that would pacify her, he wanted information- the sooner the better.

"Very well" she said and made to leave.

"Wait!" Mordred winced, he had tried to push himself up and all that had done was make the wound hurt even more. The woman turned and looked at him with an eyebrow raised. "If you are not working under anyone else's orders, then why are you doing this?"

She looked at him calmly for a moment before she replied "Because I wanted to and no one here is complaining so I can't see a problem." She looked away for a moment, a troubled expression on her face.

"Is there something wrong?" Mordred asked, her eyes snapped back to him and this time they looked accusing.

"Of course there is something wrong, there are hundreds of men dead, I have to care for the few living and make sure neither infection nor hatred kills anyone else off in this camp, and why? Because you just couldn't be content with what you had." The woman hadn't shouted, she wasn't even glaring but Mordred felt she was fighting to keep her emotions in check; but what her feelings were right now wasn't important to Mordred, it had been what she said.

"So, you know who I am." That was a surprise; if she knew who he was she could tell him if Arthur was dead or not, she would have to. He was Arthur's son and the sole heir to the throne; he expected a little more respect.

"Yes Mordred, I know who you are along with everything else you have done." She sounded smug at the look of surprise on his face that she would address him like that. "Were you expecting royal treatment? Did you expect to be treated better than everyone else?" Mordred's silence seemed to only confirm her thoughts, "Well your Highness, that isn't going to happen, in my camp everyone gets the same treatment, no matter who they have sided with. Is that clear?"

Mordred knew it would be unwise to argue with her so he said "Yes" but his mind was whirling with ideas of what he would do once he was able to move.

She sighed, "Good. Now I will go and get your food and I would prefer it if you didn't move around to much, you need plenty of rest." The woman turned and left before Mordred could say another word. _Some healer, _thought Mordred sourly, _she's about as caring and nurturing as an adder._

-0-

"Is this it?" Mordred stared disbelievingly into the small bowl of broth that had been put in front of him.

"Yes, that's it. It's what everyone else gets therefore it's what you will get." The woman stood over him, one hand on her hip, the other holding a small wooden flask containing what smelled like wine. Mordred looked from the bowl, to her scowling face then back again to the bowl. It didn't look particularly appetising but it was better than starving. He took a spoonful and swallowed; it was bland and almost tasteless but he told himself it could be worse.

"I have tasted better . . ." she rolled her eyes, "but this is acceptable." Mordred said with a smile, trying to break some of the tension. The woman just continued to wait silently, Mordred's smile dropped and he started to eat the rest of the broth as quickly as he possibly could. Whoever this woman was, in Mordred's opinion, she clearly couldn't understand humour.

"Slow down, you'll give yourself stomach ache if you eat too fast." Mordred slowed down, but he was getting more and more annoyed by her imperious nature. He was the one of royal blood, not her. He made sure not to show his annoyance though, years with his mother had taught him control over his emotions and the time he spent in Camelot and with Arthur showed him that a king must be level headed when dealing with difficult situations.

Speaking of kings, he still needed to know if Arthur was dead or not, also if she knew if anyone else who would be a problem was still alive, then that would be even better. He decided it would be best if he finished the broth first though, she seemed impatient to leave.

He swallowed two more spoonfuls and the bowl was empty. The woman stuck the flask in front of him, and he took it reluctantly. She either really didn't like him, wanted to leave as soon as possible, or both. He had been right, it was wine; he hoped it tasted better than the broth, he took a sip. "It's not poisoned, you know." The woman sounded really impatient now. He took three large gulps and handed it back to the woman, she took the bowl off his lap, inspected both to make sure they were both completely empty and then looked at him and said "Now, I suggest you should get some more rest. Someone will come in tomorrow to change your bandages." With that she turned and strode towards the entrance.

"Wait, I need to ask you something, please." Mordred hated having to ask anyone for anything, especially her, he had rarely needed to but this was important.

"What do you need to know?"

Mordred braced himself for a strong reaction, if she had loved Arthur the way most of the peasants did, she would probably find his question insulting.

"Do you know what happened to Arthur?"

There was a brief silence, where the only noise came from outside. The woman had gone stock still but her face held neither shock, sadness or anger. In fact she looked rather disappointed, as if she had expected him to ask a more interesting question. She shrugged, "He's dead, and that's all you want to know and all anyone else needs to know." and with that she finally left the tent.

Mordred leant back, feeling more reassured now that he was certain; despite this he felt a small drop of sadness knowing that Arthur was dead. The man had been a fool, but he had been a good hearted one at that, and he had been a great king. There was no shame in saying that Mordred had respected him, it had simply been time for a new king - one who could keep the old ways of Briton alive. Besides, it wasn't just greed for power that had bought him to this, it wasn't only his ambition, Mordred told himself, it had been the ambition of others too, like his mother. They had both prepared him for this; they had wanted Arthur's failing ways gone too. It had been tragic, Arthur's fate but he had had a terrible sense of character, Mordred thought of Lancelot, now that was a good example of betrayal. He hadn't even had to do anything, all Mordred had to do was open Arthur's eyes, and that was exactly what he had done. If only Arthur had taken his vows to the old ways more seriously, if only he had had the strength to stop waves of foreign influence on Briton. Still that was what Mordred had been sent to do, and now all he could do was wait until he claimed his throne. Content with that thought Mordred lay down and closed his eyes to sleep.

-0-

It had been strange, the past few days; there had been more noise outside the tent then usual, Mordred noted. Mordred had been talking with his fellow patient who was called Mark and had been a foot soldier in his army; he had no more knowledge than Mordred did on where they were or how many had been saved. In the weeks before, there had been a solid routine, someone would come in, change Mordred's bandages, tend to Mark, and give them both food and drink, leave for a few hours and then return with their next meal. Mordred hadn't seen the strange woman since he had learned of Arthur's death; instead different people were sent to help him, and all of them seemed more respectful towards him. Now, people came in at all odd hours looking flushed and tired, one man who had been unusually chatty now came in looking sullen. Mordred had often asked them what was going on, but every time he did, all he got was a panic stricken look followed by "I really can't say." It had started to annoy him, it had made Mark nervous and when he heard particularly loud noises, especially noises that sounded like human cursing, he would turn to Mordred for answers. Mordred had heard mostly the sounds of carts and sometimes he would hear pieces of conservation.

"How many can we get in that one?"

"Not sure, a handful, maybe three, give or take, I have no idea."

"Well, that's no good. How many do you think we have to get rid of by ourselves?"

"Too many, and at the same time too few, do you reckon _she's _happy with this? I know I'm not."

"Only God knows that, let's just hope nobody starts up another fight, the sooner they all go to their own hearths, the sooner we can leave."

Mordred had heard other snatches of conversation like this, they were all in hushed tones, and the participants seemed to be asking as many questions as he was. At times he was tempted to demand answers as their king, but he was still unsure as to whom their loyalties lay with. He also feared that the woman would come back and do something unpleasant; in the short time they had spoken it became clear that she wasn't afraid of him, and whenever he listened in on conversations, there would always be some reference to some _she _or _her _who gave out the orders. Whoever she was, she got a lot of respect from her peers. Another thing that concerned Mordred was their unidentified cargo, Mordred was unsure what they were trying to get rid of, but whatever it was, it clearly wasn't going fast enough. He also wondered what anybody would be fighting over in this place, all of the people he had seen didn't seem particularly wealthy and none of them had come in bruised or looking like they had come from a fight. It could be spoils of war, horses or weapons but he doubted they would know what to do with such things; they had probably never learned to ride and couldn't wield a weapon with skill. Maybe they just wanted to sell them.

"My lord?" Mordred looked over, it was Mark again, the bandages had been taken of during the days and Mordred could see the purple and black bruises that covered most of Mark's face. Mark had told him that he had been hit in the face by a shield which had knocked him unconscious, his eye was still covered and he had been told by one of the visitors (something Mordred had decided to call them, as they didn't seem to be healers.) that they weren't sure whether he would regain sight in his left eye.

"What is it Mark?" Mordred tried to sound caring; one thing he had noticed about Arthur was that he always listened to whoever came to see him. It had been a trait that had made him popular with his people, and so it would be something that Mordred would try to do, to become just as well loved.

"What will you do once we leave this place?" there was fear in his right eye, Mordred didn't blame him, Mark had most likely meant "What will you do _if_ we leave this place?"

Mordred opened his mouth to say "I will take my throne" but he was interrupted by the entrance of the woman. She was holding two bowls of steaming broth and there was a strong smell of mushrooms.

"I haven't seen you in a while, how are you two feeling?" she asked cheerily, she was deliberately avoiding Mordred's gaze.

Mark replied "Better than I was, my lady."

She gave a loud tutting sound "You don't have to call me that."

She walked over and handed one of the bowls to Mordred; he gave a very quiet "thank you" and started eating. She handed the last bowl to Mark, who gave her a much more audible 'thank you' and then watched him eat.

Mordred quickly spooned as much of the broth as he could into his mouth. This time she didn't chide him, she was too focused on watching Mark. Mordred decided to take the opportunity to get his questions answered. "What are they loading onto the carts?" her eyes glanced over to him, she looked bored again.

"People." was her blunt answer.

"Bodies!" Mordred was surprised, no wonder they were talking in hushed tones.

"No, living people, people who no longer need our aid." She sounded bored now and was inspecting her nails. Mordred was definitely getting annoyed by this woman, he reckoned even Arthur's patience would be tested by her.

"What is your name? You never told me before." Mordred asked, she was annoying but Mordred was interested to know what kind of woman would be so blatantly disrespectful to royalty.

"I never told you before because I didn't want you to know, and I still don't. Anyway, how is your highness?" her voice was dripping with false concern, "have you been planning on what you're going to do once you're on the throne, how many wars you're going to start, how many Christians your going to exile, how many people you're going to terrorise . . ."

"I haven't planned on doing _any_ of those things." Mordred retorted angrily.

"Of course not, you'll just do it." She sounded smug, she was grinning and Mordred could feel his temper rising.

"I am the rightful heir whether you like it or not, and as for those things, I will never, _never _do them nor allow them." He glowered at her; she just looked at him coolly.

"Ah, I see, you're trying to be like Arthur. Well, let me tell you, you aren't doing a very good job. When Arthur took power, he didn't steal it." Mordred glared at her. "It doesn't matter; the affairs of the royals never directly bothered me. Besides, if you look like you can't be a responsible and competent king, I can just – leave." She smiled at him and held out her hand to take the empty bowl. He handed it to her and she reached into her satchel and bought out a water- skin, he snatched it from her.

He sat up straighter and tried to stop himself from shouting at her. "I am a responsible king, I will be a responsible king, and in fact I will be a better king than Arthur." He said with a sense of pride. Then another question came into his head. "Where are you taking them?"

"To their homes."

"When do I leave?" Mordred asked.

"Why do you ask so many questions? You'll leave when you're ready." Mordred felt a little satisfaction at hearing her annoyance. "Any more questions?"

"Just one more question." Mordred said innocently.

She sighed "What is it?"

Mordred took a deep breath "What have you done with the dead?"

She gave him a look of confusion, "Nothing, we left the bodies."

"WHAT!" Mordred shouted; he winced his wound started throbbing again. To leave the dead as they were without a decent burial. It was appalling, they needed to honour the dead and instead they had been left as carrion for crows and foxes. "You didn't even make a grave, not a funeral pyre for your warriors?"

"They were Arthur's warriors or yours, besides we needed to focus on the living rather than the dead." She said calmly.

"But couldn't you even try, now that there are fewer people to tend to." Mordred was outraged, for a warrior fallen in battle, not to receive proper death rites was shameful. The warrior's soul could not move onto the next world without them.

"No, we couldn't, the workers here are already worked to death worrying about the living and finding their homes. However if you wish to build a grave for the hundreds of bodies, it will have to be done when you are king because we don't have the resources to do it now. Also, I'm sure the living soldiers would rather we tend to them rather than the comfort of the dead." The tone of her voice told him it was her final comment and Mordred had to again resign himself to the fact that while he was injured and far from his home, he could do nothing.

"Lady – I have finished." Mark was tentatively holding out his bowl, she took it and handed him his water-skin.

"Someone will come later to give you your next meal, try not to move around too much and _don't_ strain yourselves too much." She glanced at Mordred at that last part and then turned and left.

Mordred hoped she hadn't heard Mark say to him "You know my lord, she has a fair argument" as she left. It would only make their next encounter more unbearable.

Chapter Two: A King Returns

Two days after his argument with the woman, an older, more cheerful looking woman called Rebecca came to inspect both his and Mark's wounds and when she removed Mordred's bandages. They could both see he was rapidly nearing recovery. She asked him if it caused him any discomfort, Mordred told her that it still itched and caused him some pain if he moved around, but there was no longer the smell of putrefying flesh as there had been a few days back when they removed the bandages and all that remained was a large white scar.

"Well, I dare say you should be ready to return within a few days, maybe even less." she said cheerily after she had reapplied new bandages.

Mordred felt his heart swell with joy. The sooner he left, the sooner he could claim his throne and deal with any problems that may have arisen in his absence. Mordred knew well that if a leader was absent for too long, others who wanted power would seize the opportunity and start competing for the coveted position. In his time at the camp Mordred had never heard what had happened to the rest of Briton without him or Arthur to keep order and make sure invaders stayed away. However judging how cheery Rebecca was and considering that most of her fellow workers seemed calm and unafraid most of the time, Mordred doubted that Briton was in crisis or being invaded.

Rebecca went to inspect Mark's progress; after seeing Mark's injuries the other day Mordred had little doubt Mark would have to wait here a little longer, wherever _here_ was. Mark could still barely move, and spent most of his time sleeping. When the bandages were pulled back, Mordred's suspicions were confirmed; there was still purple bruising covering most of Mark's face and his eye was swollen. Rebecca gave Mark a sympathetic look. Mark swallowed "Is it getting worse, my lady?"

She bit her lip; at least she looked sorry for him "It isn't getting worse but its not healing fast enough. I really think you'll have to stay here a while longer, it could take a few more weeks before you're well enough to move."

Mark nodded and despite the fact that Mordred couldn't see him very well, he could guess that Mark was disappointed, he couldn't blame him, the weeks Mordred spent lying in bed were enough to drive him mad with boredom, and being told he would have to stay even longer must be torture for Mark.

After Rebecca had gone, Mordred turned to face Mark. He had been silent ever since Rebecca had told him he would have to stay and now he was just staring up at the roof of the tent. "Mark?" he gave no sign that he was listening so Mordred tried again "Mark, it is not that bad. You can recover from your injuries, think of those who died on the battle field. You said it yourself at least we are being cared for."

"My lord, I must ask a favour of you." His voice sounded dull and he was still looking up at the roof. Mordred was surprised but didn't show it, in all the time they had spent together in the tent, Mark had never asked a favour from Mordred.

Mordred sat up gingerly "What would you ask of me?"

Mark slowly turned his head round to face him, "My lord, please when you return," he murmured "my family, they live just outside Camelot." He was pleading now and Mordred couldn't help but be moved. "If my lord would consent to take them under his protection while I am . . . away, then I would be most grateful." Mark's uncovered eye was fixed on Mordred.

Mordred kept his face neutral, when he did return to Camelot, would he be able to take strangers into his castle? There would have to be work found for them, and places to stay. If he was to be high king, Mordred would choose his own servants, servants he knew were loyal to him. A mere foot soldier's family could be a problem if Mordred had to fight off any remaining threats, and he had to protect one family who would be little use to him. However Mark had fought and been wounded for Mordred's cause, it would be ungrateful for Mordred not to reward those who had been faithful to him. It had been what made Arthur so loved amongst his army, that he would reward those who were loyal to him. If Mordred wanted to be as loved by his people as Arthur was, then he knew this was the place to start.

"I will grant your request but I need to know how I would know your family from any other man's." Mordred said trying to sound as regal as possible, he was king and it was time to start acting and speaking as such and this would be his first act as king, at least when he got out of the camp.

Mark's eye lit up and Mordred reckoned that beneath the bandages he was smiling. "Thank you my lord, thank you. My wife's name is Anna, we have a small farm of swine my lord. Our house has a small chair outside the door, we-"

Mark was getting breathless and Mordred knew that he would tire himself out soon if he did not stop, "That is enough information Mark." Mordred cut in "I should be able to find it." Mark almost looked disappointed that he hadn't been able to tell Mordred every detail of his home, but he remained silent and twitched his head in a way that looked almost like a respectful nod.

"Now you should get some rest Mark, you need your strength." Mordred said, he wanted to be undisturbed in his plans on what he would do once he was high king.

"Yes my lord." Mark turned his head back to face the roof and his uncovered eye was closed. Within a few minutes he was snoring and Mordred lay and planned his own coronation.

-0-

A few hours later Rebecca was back again, followed by (much to Mordred's dislike) the still unnamed woman, only this time Rebecca did most of the talking. She had been talking ever since she had come into the tent with the other woman listening or attempting to look like she was listening.

"His scar is completely healed, no infection, no swelling. I think he should be ready to leave soon, don't you?" she beamed at him as if he was her son fully healed.

"Let's see if he is completely ready to leave. Mordred, try and see if you can walk." Rebecca said gently.

For a moment Mordred was both silent and still. He didn't feel like having to be put back into the bed if he fell. Both women gave him an expectant look so Mordred threw back the covers, swung his legs to the side and gently put his feet on the ground. Slowly he stood, at first his legs were slightly shaky but as he stood he got steadier, he put one foot in front of the other without looking at either of the women and started to walk.

"I think that is enough . . . he should be ready to leave soon, today if I take him." The woman said. Mordred looked up. The unnamed woman was looking at him with boredom etched onto her face; Rebecca on the other hand looked very pleased at the news. The nameless woman gestured to Rebecca, "I think you can go now, I should be able to do the rest. Have someone prepare two horses for us."

Rebecca threw one last smile at him before she left him, Mordred was overjoyed at the fact that he would be leaving but there were things he needed to know, and he was getting sick of having to ask the mysterious woman questions and getting insults as answers. Still, he had to try. She was foraging around in her satchel muttering under her breath.

Mordred took a deep breath. "What is happening to Briton?"

The woman glanced at him before looking back at her satchel and said "You should know that you can sit down for a moment."

Mordred didn't move "You haven't answered my question."

"Briton hasn't fallen into a civil war yet but there is trouble brewing so if I was you, I would protect your people and get your armies prepared, or what is left of them, first before I thought about a coronation." She was still rummaging around in her satchel, Mordred opened his mouth but she cut him off with a small "aha!" She pulled out a quill, some parchment and an ink bottle, was she going to make him sign something? She sat down then dipped her quill into the ink and started writing something. Mordred was surprised, very few peasants were literate, even fewer women.

"Who taught you how to write?"

"A priest." she replied. Mordred stared at her, a _priest_! As far as Mordred was concerned, priests very rarely taught women anything especially the poorer ones. Why was everything a mystery with this woman?

"Who are you writing to?"

The woman gave him an annoyed look, "Do you _ever_ stop asking questions? I am writing to your mother Morgause. I'm warning her of your return." she added when Mordred opened his mouth again

The woman went back to her letter; Mordred thought it would be best to remain silent but then he suddenly remembered something. "I will need my armour and weapons back if I am going to return." he said.

She sighed and rolled up the parchment and stood up, "Well, I am afraid you won't be able to find any of those things here so you will have to go as you are." she said calmly. She called in someone and handed the parchment to them.

Mordred was furious "WHAT!" the woman didn't even flinch, "How can you possibly lose a sword?" he looked at her dirty clothes and her frayed satchel and came to a nasty conclusion, "That sword has more value than everything your wearing." he spat, "I know what you have done with it, you've stolen it! You used the money to line your own pockets, you thieving little-"

"I have done no such thing. All the weapons and armour were piled together. You wouldn't be able to distinguish your own sword from anyone else's." she hissed, "As for stealing," she glared at him "to accuse me of stealing or anyone else is nothing short of hypocrisy. You, who stole lives just to get the throne when your power wasn't coming fast enough! You who stole your own father's throne!"

Mark gave a loud grunt and both she and Mordred jumped. He was still sleeping. They turned back to face each other, her eyes were burning like blue flames, she flicked her short mane over her shoulder and said "Besides, I thought you would be eager to be gone-"

"I am." Mordred growled.

"Good, then you won't want to have to forage for a few pieces of metal which I'm sure you can replace once you are back in Camelot." the woman said "Now, I am going to send this message . . ." she held it up to his face, "and I think you should wait here and then I will come back and we should be ready to go. Is that perfectly alright with you, your highness?" she smirked and gave a curtsy and left leaving Mordred silently fuming.

He walked back to the bed and sat down; he looked at his bare feet and prayed to all the gods and goddesses that she would at least bring him boots.

-0-

The minutes had gone by so slowly once she had left. Mordred had spent most of the time trying to think what he would do once he returned to Camelot but every so often the woman's face entered his head and he would end up both cursing her and wondering about her. How was it that she would be taught such things? Where did she get the courage or foolishness to be so damn disrespectful?

Suddenly the woman's head appeared in the entrance of the tent and she threw a pair of boots, his pair of boots, onto the floor. "Put them on and come outside." she snapped and disappeared. Mordred grumbled and pulled them on, at least they were his, the clothes he was wearing certainly weren't- they were as plain and shabby as hers were.

He walked over to the entrance and stepped outside. The sun almost blinded him but it quickly lost its glare, he blinked and saw over a dozen tents. Some were red and were well made, others were smaller and were less colourful. The sudden noise of dozens of people chatting and moving made Mordred's head pound. There were so many people, he had thought it was just a handful of peasants but he could see now that there was at least over twenty of them scurrying in and out of the tents.

Then Mordred heard a loud "Ahem." It was her, she had already mounted her horse which was a brown mare and another brown stallion was waiting beside it. As he walked over, the horse started to look bigger and by the time he was near enough to mount, he saw that it was not a common horse but a charger.

"Are you sure you can get on unaided Mordred?" and for the first time she sounded concerned as if they hadn't argued at all.

Mordred smirked and mounted with ease, he looked over to see if she was surprised. She wasn't, in fact she was smiling at something. Mordred's confusion must have shown because she nodded towards where his horses reins should be, they weren't there. There was only a rope around the creature's neck, Mordred's eyes followed the rope and with a horrible jolt he realised that the rope was also tied around the mare's neck. Then he noticed the rag in her hands.

"What is that for?"

"It's a blindfold to make sure you can't remember the way back, so hold still." She leaned forward. Mordred didn't have the strength or the time to argue, and he knew that if he tried to fight he would be outnumbered so let her tie the rags around his head. When she was finished Mordred felt his arms being moved and something tying his hands together.

"Now what are you doing?" this was getting infuriating, he did not want to return to Camelot like a prisoner. His hands were bound in front of him tightly, and then something grabbed the rope and shook them. Mordred betted it was the woman.

"We are just making sure you don't do anything stupider than you already have done and try and run away." the woman said smugly.

"Why would I run-"

"Will you stop asking questions!" she sounded exasperated. "Now I'm taking you to Camelot, your mother should be there and a few other familiar faces. Are you ready?"

Mordred replied "Yes." It was awkward under the blindfold.

"No more questions?" Mordred didn't know if she was asking or commanding him so he just nodded. "That's good. Now, walk on." The horses began to slowly trot and Mordred had to grab the mane to steady himself. _Well at least I am going home, _Mordred thought as they set of.

Soon the hustle and bustle of the camp was gone and for what felt like the next few hours Mordred would sit in total silence and could only hear the wind in the trees and the snapping of twigs. It was an uncomfortable ride, the blindfold made the area around his eyes hot and he was constantly being jogged by the horse often having to grab its mane to stop himself from falling of. What was worst of all was not knowing where he was going, she had said that she was taking him to Camelot, but if there was one thing Mordred had learned well in his life it was never to trust a stranger. Anxiety and impatience were eating away at Mordred's stomach; she could be taking him anywhere, leaving him to be killed or lost. They could be attacked by Saxon bandits and with no weapon Mordred was defenceless, every thought made his stomach clench. How far away were they from Camelot, or any village for that matter?

As if she read could his thoughts the woman spoke "We should be at Camelot within a few minutes so don't fret." The tension in Mordred's stomach lessened. "You don't have anything to say?" she sounded slightly surprised.

"No." his voice sounded slightly hoarse, maybe it was that which made her sound sympathetic when she next spoke.

"That's odd, whenever I spoke with you, you always had some pressing question. But still, you are returning home after all this time and you are supposed to be high king now so I suppose that is what's got you so troubled. I know I would be slightly concerned if I had all that to return to."

Mordred wasn't sure what to think for a moment- was she genuinely being sympathetic of his feelings, or was it simply that the nearer they came to Camelot, the more she realised what a dangerous thing it could be to insult a king? Never the less, part of Mordred still wanted to know more about this mysterious woman, besides it was always useful to know who your friends and enemies were, at least by name.

"I do have one question my lady."

She gave a small laugh and even though he couldn't see her, it made her seem less formidable than she had been when he was in the camp. "I knew it couldn't last. What is it?"

"Will you tell me your name?" there was a brief pause and Mordred wondered if she would become snappish again but then he heard her give a loud sigh.

"Alright, but on two conditions." she said in a sulky voice.

Mordred fought down a cry of triumph and said "That seems fair enough, condition one."

"I get to ask _you_ a question."

Mordred shrugged, what had he to hide- she seemed to know about him already. "Alright, condition two is . . ."

"I'll get to that later." she said hurriedly "Now do you accept both conditions and promise to follow them to the fullest extent?" There was a serious tone in her voice now.

"Yes I accept them . . . now tell me your name." It was starting to annoy him, this great secrecy over her name; he knew the names of some of the healers at the camp, so why was she so protective?

"My name is Moira." she muttered.

"Moira" Mordred repeated, not an unusual name- he was almost disappointed at how mundane it was, "So ask me your question Moira."

"Why did you kill your father?"

Mordred's blood ran cold. Why did she have to ask _that _of all questions? He had told himself that he had nothing to be ashamed of and at the time it had seemed the right thing to do. . .for the good of all Britons- to preserve their ways and religion. That had been what he had been instructed to do. So why was her question causing his stomach to turn again.

He answered "Because I had to. Arthur was failing his responsibility to protect the interests of all Britons . . . christian and pagan. He was unable to have an heir with Guinevere and I am his only child. He was allowing his wife and champion to betray him without any punishment- it was unfair to let them get away with the sin and punish others for lesser betrayals. At the beginning his reign was promising but-" he paused, how did he say this to a peasant who couldn't understand the minds of his mother? "It was failing . . . he was becoming weaker. I – I had to do something." He didn't expect her to understand it; no one would be able to. It was something he would have to live with. 

"That's not much of an explanation." Moira said.

"I know" Mordred said wearily "but that is the only way I can put it." he sighed, "now what is your second condition?"

"To promise something . . . to promise you'll treat everyone equally. To make sure you don't massacre christians or any other religion. . . to keep the same justice system your father had. That is my condition." Mordred couldn't see her face but he could feel her eyes on him; what she asked of him was strange but not unreasonable. It was what Arthur had sworn to do at the beginning of his reign- it was what Mordred had to do now.

"I swear to do as you ask, no one shall be treated any better or any worse under my rule." Mordred replied.

"You had better uphold your promise." her tone was slightly threatening.

"I promise."

"Good," she sounded relieved "we're here." The horses suddenly stopped and once again Mordred had to grab the mane of his horse to stop himself from falling. Suddenly hands were moving by his head and the blindfold was pulled away; a pair of blue eyes were staring at him. She leant back and Mordred could see the huge fortress that was Camelot in the distance, its impressive great stone walls were a welcome sight to Mordred, the wooden doors, the village on the outskirts of the fortress made all the anxiety in his stomach leave instantly. "Heart-warming isn't it, now hold still while I cut the rope." Mordred held out his bound wrists and scowled, how could Moira be uninterested in the scene before them?

"This is as far as I'll go with you" she said as she cut the rope that joined their horses together. She turned her horse to face back the way they had come, looked over her shoulder and said "Farewell Mordred, remember to keep your promise." With that she rode off before he could even gather his senses to say goodbye.

Mordred shook his head and set his horse off at a fast trot- he had no time to worry about courtesy to a stranger, the best way of showing his gratitude would be to keep his promise of equality. As he rode towards the village, he kept his eyes peeled for any houses with a chair outside the door- he would keep all his promises from now on. He could not afford to make the same mistakes Arthur had made. Before long he was at the great wooden doors to Camelot- they were shut which was odd as they were usually open to allow traders and travellers inside.

He dismounted and ignoring the itch in his side, he walked over to the doors and banged his hand heavily on them. "Hello there, open the gate!" for a tense moment Mordred thought that Camelot had been abandoned but then he heard a voice from the ramparts.

"Who goes there?" Mordred recognized that voice- it was a voice he hadn't heard for far too long. He looked up and saw a head peering over the edge.

"Agravaine it's me! Mordred, your new high king!" He shouted up to him.

"Mordred, you're back that fast!" Agravaine's voice sounded happy- something that rarely happened. His head disappeared, commands were being issued, he could hear shouting and cursing, and then he could hear the creaking of the doors being pulled open.

They opened to reveal a bear of a man, matted dark brown hair pulled back to reveal a scarred and weather beaten face, two blue eyes similar to Mordred's own were fixed on him. Agravaine smiled, stepped forward and embraced him. When they parted Agravaine said "Look at you Mordred! Hardly a scratch on you! You must be favoured by the gods to get here by yourself."

"No gods helped me make this journey- mortals did." Mordred replied with a smile on his face, it was good to be home amongst family.

"Well tell us all about it once you are refreshed and you have an audience to hear you Mordred or should I say my lord?" he made a deep bow and Mordred was thrilled to see that the men behind him did the same. Mordred entered Camelot with a sense of achievement- he was high king. He, Mordred was recognised as high king.

Agravaine straightened up and they walked over to the great stone steps smiling and laughing. Mordred listened as Agravaine told him how he was saved and how everyone had thought Mordred had been killed until they had received a message only that morning telling them that he was alive. There were people swarming from inside the castle to see what all the noise was about, some of them would take a look at him and then run back inside. Agravaine had to keep pushing his way through the crowd with Mordred following- soldiers were asking if he knew what had happened to their comrades, women asking if he had seen their husbands, fathers or sons. By the time they were finally inside Agravaine was bellowing at them to leave and to wait till Mordred was ready to speak. Finally when the doors were slammed shut, the sudden quiet made Mordred frown- Camelot had always been busy, even inside the castle there had been women spinning, people gossiping and small children running about. Now there was just an awful silence, he looked around; there was a sense of neglect in the way the stone steps leading to the great hall, which had been decorated with all the banners of the nobles, were now dusty, the banners torn down.

Mordred heard Agravaine move beside him "It has been neglected with Arthur gone . . . but now that you have returned. . ." Agravaine said awkwardly.

"It shall be returned to its former glory." was all Mordred said. Agravaine nodded and they started to walk up the stairs. Then at the arch at the top of the stairs a woman came into view. She was tall and her long dark hair reached down to the small of her back, her pale grey eyes were glistening as she saw Mordred and her pale pink lips turned into a smile as she ran down to meet them.

"Mother." Mordred blurted out as she embraced him. When they pulled apart Mordred saw that there were flecks of grey in her night black hair. As far as he could think back Morgause had never seemed to age- she had always been proud, regal, the image of power in every way.

She pulled him back sharply into an embrace- Mordred couldn't ever remember being held this lovingly in his childhood. "I thought you were lost, I thought all my sons were lost to me." she murmured in his ear. Mordred almost had to push her off.

"Well, most of us are alive, mother" Agravaine said sulkily. Morgause ignored him and she smiled at Mordred.

"Come Mordred, come see your subjects." Morgause said excitedly and she pulled Mordred very tightly by the hand towards the great hall. Mordred gave Agravaine, who was still standing there, a sympathetic look- he just shrugged.

Mordred entered the great hall and was shocked to see so many familiar faces there; Gawain, Accolon, Lionel, Garet, Ywaine, and sat in the corner was Lancelot. Most of the faces turned to him and smiled and Mordred realised Morgause had let go of his hand. Gawain got up from where he was sitting and came slowly towards Mordred, his face disbelieving. "You're alive." he said quietly.

"Yes I am and I'm certainly glad to see you're all alive." Mordred said loudly so everyone could hear. Lancelot snorted but everyone else ignored him- the silence that had filled the hall was replaced by a torrent of questions. Mordred saw the faces of maids and servants peeking from the corridors, each of them looked overjoyed. It was just like the welcome Mordred had received before he had entered the castle; only over the dim he could hear orders to bring food and wine. The only one who didn't look happy was Lancelot, who was still sat sullen-looking in the corner. Finally the wine was bought in and the attention turned towards that, Mordred saw that the throne- his throne, was unoccupied and he went to sit on it. The throne was at first glance no different from the other chairs around the table but as Mordred got closer he could distinguish the carvings on the back of the chair. As he got closer, the noise grew fainter and fainter so by the time he had pulled out the chair, everyone was again focused on him. He sat down and when no one moved he gestured to the knights to take their seats. Agravaine came into the hall and at the sight of all the knights seated at the round table, he went and took his place next to Gawain.

Mordred raised his goblet in a toast and said "To the brave and honourable fallen."

"The brave and honourable fallen." they chorused.

"To our new king Mordred." came a sullen voice- it was Lancelot, "May he have a long and happy reign." He continued surveying everyone over the rim of his goblet. The knights cheered, they hadn't heard the sarcasm. Mordred ignore him- he would deal with Lancelot later.

As they feasted Mordred heard from each of them how they had survived, their tales were the same as Mordred's. They had been saved by strangers who had come onto the battlefield and when they were deemed fit enough; they were blindfolded, hands tied up and brought to Camelot. The only different story was Lancelot's- he had been bought to a convent, Mordred was tempted to ask whether it was the convent where Guinevere was hiding- by the look on Morgause's face, Mordred guessed she was tempted too. When they heard Mordred's story (he left out how insulted he had been ), they all laughed and each told of how they too had met Moira. The one thing they seemed to agree on was that Moira wasn't impressed by royalty or nobility.

-0-

That night when Mordred went to the king's chamber, now his chamber- he lay on his bed, the fire burning in the hearth, he promised himself he would keep Camelot as it had been and as it should always be- open to everyone. With that he turned to sleep, his mother's and Moira's face floating before his eyes and the knight's, his knights last toast ringing in his ears. . . "Long live King Mordred!"

Chapter three: Rumours

Time passed as a blur to Mordred and before long he realised that he had spent three days in Camelot without even considering his coronation. He had spent so much time trying to get some semblance of order back into the castle and being addressed as king that he often forgot he hadn't been coroneted- however Morgause was always there to remind him with her plans of whom they should invite and when it should be. The one thing that distracted Mordred most was the spreading rumours about the healers; more soldiers were appearing in the village outside Camelot and apparently towns and cities elsewhere overnight. There were whispers that they were angels sent to save them, some people said that they were fairy folk and some very foolish girls Mordred had overheard had said that the men returned were actually changelings. Mordred didn't believe any of the rumours and tried to discourage anyone from talking about them- Moira had been all too human to be any supernatural or divine being. As more reports and witnesses came in, the more difficult it became to try and trace them- all the witnesses could tell him was that they had been blindfolded, put into a cart, taken out and then left outside their villages. When Agravaine asked one man how they knew where he lived, he abashedly said "I told them, my lord, when they asked."

Mordred was growing impatient- most of the knights, especially Lancelot had taken it into their heads to find out who the healers were and most importantly why they had helped. "They could have been anyone, from anywhere!" as Mordred kept telling them whenever one of them brought up the topic. There was no point in trying to find them- they only had a handful of names to go on Mordred thought as he walked down the corridor. He had only escaped from his mother's grand designs for his coronation and wanted a few moments of peace before he had to return to his duty.

He wasn't going to get any, "My lord! A moment of your time." It was Lancelot, his nut- meg brown hair slightly tousled. Mordred stopped and waited for Lancelot to approach, he gave a quick nod of his head. Mordred bit his tongue- Lancelot should have bowed before him, but when Arthur had ruled he hadn't bothered, and now it seemed he thought he could continue. The favouritism Arthur had shown Lancelot, and Lancelot's disregard for protocol had been what made it easy for Mordred to bring them both down. Camelot had stood for equality and justice and yet both its champions had failed to keep that practice.

With that, Mordred smirked and asked "Lancelot, what do you want?"

Lancelot pulled himself up to his full height "I request to take a group of men and try and find these strangers." he said.

Mordred gave a groan of frustration. "Why do you need to find them? Can't you just be content that you are alive?" he glared at him.

Lancelot just looked at him and said "I am grateful which is why I think we must find them, so that they can be rewarded. What they did was no mean feat, it was an act of generosity and I believe that I should at least repay them in some way."

Mordred scoffed "If they had wanted to claim any reward, they wouldn't have kept their location and identities so secret."

"We should at least try, to not show any form of gratitude would be dishonourable." Lancelot replied, his usually fair skin now colouring to a slight pink, his forest brown eyes giving Mordred an angry look.

Mordred snorted- who was Lancelot to talk about honour? "You would know what it is to be dishonourable, wouldn't you Lancelot?"

Lancelot was livid. "At least I had honour to begin with- I have only two things to be ashamed of. You, Mordred, have far too many!" he retorted hotly.

Mordred felt his temperature rising- how dare he! Lancelot had been the one to betray Arthur more than anyone, all Mordred had done was simply open Arthur's eyes. Refraining from shouting Mordred said "Your request is denied. Leave me." Lancelot didn't say anything; he gave another small nod of his head and stormed off. Mordred let out another groan- Lancelot was more trouble he was worth. He had been a good fighter but there were better fighters now, Mordred had no need of him. Lancelot had relied heavily on Arthur's friendship to get to position of champion, but now Arthur was gone he was going to have to prove himself. So far he wasn't doing a good job.

Mordred needed time to gather his thoughts and he wasn't going to find any peace in the castle. There was a small wood outside the village- he had often gone there to make his next plan and meet with others who were disaffected with Arthur. With his mind made up Mordred headed to the stables, he would tell someone where he was going and for the next hour or two he could be free.

-0-

By the time he had a horse prepared and convinced Morgause that it was perfectly safe for him to leave without a soldier or attendant with him, it was nearly sunset but once he had entered the woods, Mordred had felt the tension that had been on his shoulders lift. Here he could just be himself, not a king, not a prince just Mordred. As he moved along the trees started to grow in closer, Mordred had to keep pushing branches out of the way so his horse could keep moving. To his relief he could hear the sound of running water- he was nearing the little stream that ran through these woods.. Then he heard something he hadn't heard there before; a woman humming. He stopped his horse; that was odd, he had come here so often and the only other people who knew about it were his fellow conspirators, he dismounted and pushed one last branch out of the way.

It was Moira. She was holding a basket full of bluebells and was pulling up even more- so far she hadn't noticed him. She straightened up and Mordred's jaw dropped- she had a sword! Mordred had heard that some Saxons allowed their women to wield weapons but Mordred doubted that Moira was a Saxon; she lacked the usual yellow hair and pale blue eyes that were common on the Saxon people Mordred had seen. Even if she had been part Saxon, Mordred asked himself, how would she have got a sword; then he remembered she could have taken one of the swords off the fallen warriors- but could she use it properly? Moira still hadn't seen him; she was too engrossed in pulling up handfuls of bluebells. Mordred decided that the only way to find out was to ask and he stepped out from behind the tree.

"Can you actually wield that sword?" Moira looked up at him- Mordred was impressed to see that she didn't look afraid, just wary. He didn't want her disappearing again, the trees behind her were thick and it would be difficult to chase after her in there. She peered over his shoulder, "It's just me, Moira." Mordred said reassuringly.

Placing a hand gently on the hilt she said "Yes." then she frowned.

"What is it?" Mordred asked.

"Is it not dangerous for the high king to be walking around on his own with no soldiers or knights to protect him?" she didn't sound concerned for him at all.

Mordred smiled he had quickly found a replacement for his lost sword "I can protect myself." he patted the sheath at his side, feeling a sense of satisfaction that this time he knew where he was and didn't have to rely on her help.

"Oh that's good to hear." she said in a sarcastic voice as she turned away from him.

Mordred didn't know what made him do it, "Wait!" he blurted out and when she didn't stop Mordred found himself following her. "Wait, slow down, I need to speak to you." but no matter how loud he shouted after her, she still didn't slow down. Any good will he felt towards her vanished as he made himself run after her- finally he caught up with her.

"Why didn't you wait when I told you to?" he grabbed her wrist "I-"

SMACK!

Mordred clutched his nose. "Don't you _ever_ touch me again." Moira hissed. Mordred felt his nose, good, it wasn't broken. He gave her a look of utter confusion.

"What have I ever done to earn your hatred?" Mordred shook his head at seeing her wary eyes, "I don't wish you any harm, so _why_ did you strike me?" Mordred asked.

"If you wanted my attention you should have asked, not demanded. I don't answer to spoilt prince's demands." Moira replied.

Mordred didn't know what to do. If he demanded answers, he would only get venomous insults, and if he apologized, it would be an insult to his pride. Did Mordred really need answers from this temperamental woman? Probably not but he couldn't deny that she, despite her attitude, evoked his curiosity. Mordred decided he would have to ignore her comment if he was going to find out who or what she was.

"How did you get that sword?" he asked keeping his tone civil.

She gave him a searching look, maybe she was surprised he hadn't responded to her insult. She pulled a face and said "again, more questions." She surveyed his face for a moment "I earned it after a battle. The man had already fallen and I had need of it- so I took it and I have kept it ever since."

Amazement numbed his anger. "You fought in a battle!" he said disbelievingly.

She shrugged "No, I wouldn't say I fought in the type of battle you were thinking of." she said "It was much more that we had been attacked and I needed something to protect myself and others with."

Mordred stayed silent. It wasn't very often he met a woman who could use a sword and talk about being attacked as if it was nothing extraordinary. "It was very fortunate that you did survive otherwise I along with so many others would not be here." he said after a moment.

Moira raised an eyebrow "Is that your way of saying 'thank you'?" she asked.

Mordred smiled and nodded. He saw the guarded look leave her eyes and she grinned at him, she shook her basket "Well, I suppose you're wondering what these are for."

Mordred actually hadn't, however he was eager to find out more about her and if she wanted to engage him in conversation he would let her choose the topic so he simply said "I am curious."

Moira seemed satisfied with that as she then said "I use them to stop infection from some animal bites and if you burn them they can make a pleasant smell." Mordred wasn't that surprised at this knowledge as he knew some herb lore from his mother but he didn't feel like putting her in another bad mood, and he tried to look impressed. It obviously worked because when she spoke again there was a friendly tone in her voice that Mordred never heard before "Mark wants to know about his family, he wants to know if you have kept your promise." Mordred felt a twinge of guilt on hearing that, the promise had been on his mind but with everything else, he hadn't been able to find time to search them out. Moira must have seen his guilt, "I take it you haven't been able to keep your promise then." she said, Mordred detected a hint of accusation in her words.

"I admit that I have been unable to, lady."

"Don't call me that, just call me Moira." she said. Mordred was unsure why she didn't want to be addressed in a respectable way.

"Very well, Moira. I have been unable to fulfil my promise but I do plan to." Mordred said.

"I should certainly hope so!" Moira tutted "With an army coming, you'll need to take everyone in-"

"What did you say!" Mordred choked out. An army! How could she know about an army coming and he not have heard about it.

"You don't know! I thought you knew, surely you have heard something?" Moira said, her smile was gone and now there was a panicked look on her face.

"If I had known do you think I would come out here on my own? Whose army is it? How far away are they?" Mordred asked, fear settling in his stomach.

The wary look had returned in her eyes as she watched Mordred's face "It's a Saxon army, it's not a great army but they want more land, apparently they are coming from Londonium."

"Where are they headed?" Mordred asked dreading the answer.

"Here." Moira said "They would be a few days away from reaching Camelot so you'll have time to prepare. But you need to move fast and stop them from advancing too far. " there was no fear in her voice.

"I know what to do, I have fought in many battles, this will be no different." Mordred said distractedly, he was already trying to form some battle strategy and he almost didn't hear what Moira next said.

"No it is not the same, you must win this battle, otherwise everything will be destroyed- there'll be nothing left of Camelot!" Moira cried, her eyes were blazing like blue flames.

"I thought you didn't like me as high king Moira." Mordred said, he could try to make an attempt at humour, humour was something he needed to make the situation look less dire.

"I don't wish to over feed your confidence but I would rather have you as high king than have everything fall back into disorder and have everyone fighting each other, there'd be a battle daily!" Moira replied. Mordred gave a weak laugh, it was the closest thing to a compliment he had heard since he met her.

"I am glad to hear that." Mordred said, then his mind wandered back to what was to come and he cursed the Saxons out loud. Moira swatted her basket at his head.

"Don't judge a race on the actions of a few, there are many Saxon people who are content to live here peacefully." she said sharply "Your father could tell the difference, that's why he was so loved by most of Briton."

"Why do you keep telling me what Arthur has done? I know why he was loved by his people, I saw him rule, I was part of the court." Mordred said. He had heard the wisdom in what she had said but he could also hear the accusation and was growing tired of it.

"Because you don't understand it. You know what he has done but you can't understand his reasons, the way I don't understand your reason for killing him." Moira said placidly. Mordred tried to ignore what she said, he couldn't afford to feel shame now, just as he hadn't been able to feel shame when he had braced himself for the fight with his- Arthur. His mind had to be on how he was going to fight the Saxons, not on what a strange woman said to him.

"Do you live in the village? he asked.

"No."

"Then how do you know of this attack?"

"I have a friend in Londonium, they heard the rumours and saw that groups of Saxons were arming themselves, they passed the message onto me after you had left."

Mordred wanted to believe her, she seemed to have been honest with him so far but he was still suspicious "Who was your friend? And how is it that I have not heard of this before?"

"I can't say who my friend is, and as for why you didn't hear about this sooner, well . . ." she shrugged "perhaps no messenger wanted to come you with such bad news knowing your temper."

Mordred bit back an angry retort- he had never met anyone so disrespectful, not even Agravaine was this cynical. Besides, who was she to make remarks on his temper when her moods were constantly changing. "What has made you think I have a short temper?" Mordred asked making his tone friendly as possible.

Moira gave him a coy smile "I heard that while Arthur was absent, you hanged a man who had insulted you."

Ah. That had happened but the man had been of little worth, and in Mordred's opinion, far too liberal with what he had said to him. It was what made the fact that Moira was so disrespectful more interesting to Mordred- if she thought he was short of temper, then why had she insulted him?

"So what is your excuse this time Mordred? she asked cheerfully. Her face was blank, but Mordred got the feeling she took pleasure in his discomfort.

"I must admit that is true." Mordred started, waiting to see if she said anything but she still kept her face blank, the only sign that she was listening was that her eyes were glistening. "The man had insulted me and my family so he was punished."

"By execution. A little drastic don't you think?" Moira cut in, raising both eyebrows.

"Perhaps." Mordred replied "But he was a fool and would insult anyone if he had the right amount of drink." That was partially true; the man had been drunk when he had spoken to him.

"It still was unjust, and you said you were claiming the throne _for_ justice." Mordred felt his cheeks colouring, she had a point even if he didn't want to admit it. He thought about changing the topic but Moira got there first. "You should probably return to Camelot now, its getting dark and you need to start preparing yourselves." Mordred quickly looked up at the sky- she was right, the first of the stars were coming out. "You should go Mordred, you need to get ready." she said.

Mordred remembered something, "What about you?" he asked, "You said you don't live here."

Moira faced away from him and said "I don't. I sleep under the stars most times, fortunately I managed to find a small tent which I can carry so I can stay under there when it gets to cold." Mordred stared at her again, she was a traveller. Very few people thought a woman would be able to journey by herself, perhaps that's why she was armed, to keep bandits and other threats at bay.

They were silent for a moment, Moira lost in her thoughts, Mordred wondering what kind of things she had seen on her travels. Mordred looked up again, it was almost nightfall. He cleared his throat, "Moira, I must leave now." she looked back at him, a strange look in her eye, as if she had remembered something hurtful to her and said . . .

"Very well. Do what you must do." Mordred didn't say anything, he just bowed and went to find his horse.

As he rode away, Mordred told himself that the feeling of disappointment came from the fact that his ascension to power hadn't come as clearly as he had hoped, and it was nothing to do with the fact that he hadn't had longer to speak with Moira. After all, he thought, if he came back victorious, he might be able to speak with her more often. And maybe, a little voice in his head said, this time she will want to speak with you.

-0-

The reaction he got from each of the knights was exactly as he expected; Agravaine cursed loudly, Gawain, Accolon and Ywaine instantly pressed him for more information while Lancelot and Garet stood waiting for the noise to quieten down. Morgause was also silent but Mordred could see the shrewd look in her eye Unlike Lancelot who would wait for orders, Morgause would instantly start making plans even if she did not speak them out loud. The noise was becoming louder, Agravaine's cursing was becoming even fouler.

"Enough talk! We must act." Mordred shouted. Everyone fell silent, the knights sat and all heads turned towards him. "We must get the villagers inside the castle and we must ready ourselves, my source says that they should be here within days so we have to prepare and move our armies even faster."

Garet spoke "My lord, where does this knowledge come from? Who is your source?" A wave of mutters broke out among the table, Mordred saw Lancelot lean towards Gawain and whisper something.

"My source is reliable Garet, I am sure we are not being misled." Mordred hadn't felt like sharing with everyone where he had got the information from, listening to a woman in matters of war wasn't something the knights were fond of, even his half brothers hadn't taken any advice their mother had given them, when she had anyway. Also he knew if he told them it was Moira and that she was nearby, Agravaine would leave, drag her in and question her- and Agravaine was not known for his gentle treatment of women. "Now we must plan our strategy, my source tells me that they are headed here. I believe that the best course of action is to take an army and defeat them before they can torch our fields." There was a murmur of assent and Mordred was pleased to see that even Lancelot, who had been casting angry looks since he had arrived, was nodding his head in agreement, "Then we are in agreement." Mordred said "The villagers must be protected once we leave, I suggest we take them inside the fortress walls where they can at least have some protection." Once again, the knights simply murmured their agreement. Agravaine, who enjoyed battle the way others would enjoy a sport, was also grim faced. Mordred couldn't blame them, they had only just been bought back from the brink of death and now they had to face another battle.

Finally Morgause spoke and when she did, she sounded angry "When should we bring the people in? Your source says the Saxons could be here in matter of days. But how many days? It could be anything from five days to one. Question your spy again, find out how long it will take the Saxon army to get here."

"The person who told me was not a spy, they had simply heard talk of Saxons taking arms in Londonium and thought it best that they tell me." Mordred said "As for when we should let the people in (he was tempted to say 'my people'), it would be best if we started taking them in tomorrow." he watched as his mother's face change from perfectly calm to perfectly furious, it meant she would have to over see everything while he was preparing the army for battle. He felt sorry for her and would make sure he apologised later- but not right now.

Gawain stood "My lord, give me leave to rally my men, I should return tomorrow if I leave now and we will have enough numbers to send this Saxon scum back where they came from." All the knights cheered at that for which Mordred was grateful, he had never been good at speeches, Gawain had always been the one to bring morale to the men with words.

"Very well Gawain you have my permission." Mordred said and Gawain bowed and left through the archway, all the heads turned back to him waiting for what he would next say "I want extra guards on the ramparts tonight, and we will need rooms prepared for people to sleep in as well as space for food and livestock." Mordred said this more to the servants around the hall, they bowed their heads and left quietly. Once it was just him and the knights in the hall Mordred pulled out his map and laid it on the table "Now then to talk of our strategy." The knights moved their chairs towards him and for the next few hours they listed every strategy they could think of until finally one was agreed upon by everyone. By the time Mordred retired to his chamber, it was well past midnight.

-0-

Mordred snapped awake and for one frightening moment, he thought he saw a pair of blue eyes looking down on him. At first he couldn't understand why he felt a sense of urgency but then he remembered- the battle. He kicked of the covers and hurried to get himself dressed. As he walked through the corridors he could hear the clutter of tables and beds being moved, servants were milling about in every room, some were carrying bed sheets, others were taking out any object that might take up too much room. When he walked past them, they each fell silent and bowed and turned back to their work once he had walked past them. More of the servants were rising, each rubbing the sleep from their eyes and falling to work wherever they were needed, the castle was now buzzing with sound and when Mordred reached the hall he was glad to see that only a few of the knights and a handful of soldiers filled the room. They were gathered around Lancelot, deep in conversation but when they saw him, they bowed and waited for him to speak. "Has Gawain returned yet?" Mordred asked.

"No my lord but he should be here soon." one of the soldiers replied.

"Very good, there must be room made in the stores below castle for any small livestock and crops we can bring in, see to it that this is done." Mordred said to the soldier who had answered him.

He shared an uneasy look with his fellows, "My lord" Lancelot said "I have already seen to this, there is room ready for when the people are bought in. We need to arm ourselves before we do anything else." Lancelot looked pleased with himself that he had done it before anyone else, probably to humiliate Mordred in front of his men but Mordred had an idea.

"Very good of you Lancelot, I am impressed." Mordred said to him, and then he faced Garet, who was still bleary eyed. "Garet, round up the men and bring out all the weapons you can find in the armoury, make sure that every soldier is armed."

Garet bowed and said "Yes my lord." and left the room with three soldiers following him. Mordred turned back to Lancelot.

"Lancelot, I need you to carry out an important task-" he saw Lancelot instantly sit up straight, this was going to be interesting to watch, "I need you to lead the village people into the castle, the sooner they are inside Camelot the better." Lancelot's look of pride turned to one of anger, rounding up a village of still sleepy farmers and their families wasn't an easy task, but it didn't win the fame and glory that Lancelot constantly sought.

"And when should I leave to do this task my lord?"

Mordred fought to keep his face straight "Now, I believe would be best Lancelot." he said keeping his voice clear of any of the satisfaction he felt.

Lancelot stood from his chair and for a moment Mordred thought he might shout, but instead Lancelot bowed and muttered "My lord." and left.

Once he was gone, Mordred ordered the remaining knights and soldiers to go down to the armoury and help with anything needed done. They walked away mumbling among themselves, Mordred had a suspicion it was him they were talking about, but no matter. While they were faced with the threat of battle, they would keep their complaints to themselves. With that in mind, Mordred spent the next three hours giving orders, helping move tables, chairs, looms and the like while he waited for Lancelot to bring in the villagers and wondered if Moira would be with them.

-0-

When Lancelot did return, he had a foul look on his face and the stench that followed him was even worse. A crowd of filthy people were pouring into the hall, each with a look of amazement on their faces, there would probably be more of them leading livestock into the lower parts of the castle. There would be filth and muck everywhere and Mordred didn't fancy being the person to clear it up, maybe he could make Lancelot do it if he continued being so disrespectful. Cheered by that thought, Mordred turned his attention back to the villagers, in the hope that he would see Moira among them. He kept checking to see if he could see her face, or see if any women were carrying a sword, so far he had had no luck.

As the villagers walked in and were shown where to go by some of the servants, Mordred saw Morgause standing in the balcony over the hall, her nose was wrinkled in disgust. By the way she was looking at him Mordred knew she wanted him to go and speak to her, but Mordred couldn't leave, he was needed here. If she wanted to speak to him, she would have to come down.

Then a flash of red hair caught his eye. In the archway, satchel, sword and all, stood Moira. She was looking over the hall with a bored air about her, as if she was unfazed by what was happening. Moira quickly turned and caught him looking at her, but Mordred didn't look away, she shrugged and broke away from the crowd.

"You acted quicker than I expected." she said once she reached him.

"I thought it best we were prepared as quickly as possible." Mordred knew people were looking at them, Moira hadn't curtsied or even addressed him as she should, but Mordred could tell from the way she ignored the whispers and curious looks that she got, that she didn't care what people thought she should do. It was quite impressive really, it wasn't Lancelot's sulky disrespect, it was just something she wouldn't do.

"I hope you have a strategy, and a good one at that."

"We do, and all of us agreed on it."

"Did you? Because I saw Gawain leave Camelot last night." she said. Not sir Gawain, just Gawain, does this woman respect anything?

"You are right he did leave, he went to rally his troops, he should return today."

Moira wasn't satisfied "What is your strategy?" she asked.

That caught him of guard, he hadn't expected her, or anyone to ask that except Gawain. Even more people were staring at them, and he could hear the whispers getting louder.

"Who is she?"

"She's a witch, only a witch would stand so defiant."

Moira gave no sign of hearing them, she just kept waiting for his answer. Mordred gestured to the corridor "May we speak in private?" half the hall were listening into the conversation. She nodded and they walked into the corridor- Agravaine appeared in front of him.

He nodded his head towards Moira and asked "Who is she?"

"A friend only." Mordred answered him, and he and Moira slipped past him into the quiet of the corridor, Agravaine still staring at them. They kept walking in silence, often getting odd looks from the servants still in the corridors until Mordred finally found an empty room. He held the door open for her and then shut the door behind them.

The room was cramped and dingy and Mordred had to take care not to put his boots over the blankets that had been laid out. "What is your strategy?" Moira asked again.

"I will lead my troops in front of them, Agravaine and Ywaine will bring the troops to the Saxons left flank, Lancelot and Garet will come in from their right. We will encircle them and then charge." Mordred said, not quite sure why he was telling a woman this, and not quite sure why she was interested.

"Aah, the good old 'charge and attack' strategy, that'll work." Moira said sarcastically.

"You have a better plan?" Mordred said scowling at her.

"Yes I do, its called using your head- hold your line, keep the shields raised so you form a barrier, use any archers you can to pick them of and then charge." she said proudly to Mordred's surprised face. However, no matter how impressive it was that she knew something of a battle strategy, the knights and he had already settled on one and he would not anger them by changing his mind.

"The knights and I have agreed on our strategy, and so it will stay that way." Mordred thought about what he had said and added "It worked for Arthur many times, therefore it will work for me."

Moira just shrugged "I was just suggesting an idea."

"Yes, yes, the thought is appreciated. Now how long will it take the Saxons to get here?" Mordred asked impatiently.

"Two days."

"Two days!" Mordred repeated "Then we ride out tomorrow."

Moira walked past him, towards the door. "Good luck." she said as she opened it, "I'll pray for you." and she left Mordred alone with his questions and growing anxiety.

Chapter four: The Battle Commences

The ride out of Camelot hadn't been as ceremonious as it would have been if Arthur was riding to battle. Mordred felt that this was because most of the castle's attention was focused on preparing themselves for a direct attack on Camelot. Mordred had set a small group of soldiers to stay behind, and he had given orders that the great doors were to remain shut until he, or one of the knights returned. Throughout the rest of his time in Camelot, Mordred hadn't been able to speak with Moira. He had seen her around the castle but whenever she saw him, she would either ignore him or leave before Mordred could speak with her. Agravaine hadn't asked Mordred about Moira again however Morgause had taken Mordred's evasive answers as an insult; she had sulked when Mordred refused to give her any more information about Moira, even though he kept telling her he didn't know that much about her any way. She hadn't come to see them off which was unexpected, but not unusual- Morgause was a woman whose moods could change quicker than the weather. It was something both he and his half-brothers were accustomed to, so as he heard the doors of Camelot shut behind him, he felt no regret at not seeing her before he left. When he returned from Camelot, victory in hand, he had little doubt that Morgause would forget the incident. Besides, she would not be marching into battle along side him therefore it wasn't her discontentment that worried him. Mordred glanced at the army behind him. In happier times, there would have been talk between the soldiers and curses and insults made towards the enemy. The army which followed behind Mordred, bearing his banner of black with a red dragon, were silent and sober. Mordred could feel the unease prickling at the back of his neck, but there was nothing he could say or do to improve the soldier's morale. He could only pray to all the gods that he would be granted victory. Gawain, who had returned with a small number of mounted men, could sense nothing wrong with the lack of bravery shown by the rest of the men. He probably thought it was simply the prospect of another battle that had them so silent, Mordred thought it was for lack of love for the new king that they were expected to fight for. Mordred felt his insides start turning again. This battle had to be a success. One thing the people expected from a king was victory and Arthur's armies had always met success against the Saxons. This battle would be Mordred's first test as high king, failure would mean the loss of everything he had worked for. Even Agravaine, presently riding beside him, who had been such a friend to him, would not be loyal to him if he should lose the fight. There was one thing Agravaine hated more than Saxons and it was losing. The turning of Mordred's insides seemed to double. He inhaled and forced himself to be calm. He was the high king. He could not feel or show fear. He could not afford failure- not now, nor after. Feeling more assured, Mordred sat up straighter in his saddle.

They rode on. Camelot's towers and walls fading into the distance behind them.

-0-

The morning was cold and bright. The field where Mordred and his army stood was filled with small hills, the occasional flower was to be seen among the waves of green, little holes in the ground suggested that more than one small creature had chosen this place to make its home. It would have been a pleasant view, had it not been for the Saxon army that lay before them. They were like a gash in the landscape, one large, noisy, dark brown body with only flecks of pink to identify faces. Mordred was relived to see that their numbers were small, or at least smaller than he had imagined. He looked over to where Lancelot and Garet were waiting, on top of a small hill to his right. Then he turned to look over to his left and was glad to see that everyone was in position. It was clear to Mordred that who ever had led this Saxon rebellion, was clearly no master strategist. The Saxon horde was marching straight into the open plain where they were surrounded by hills. Their thundering movements stopped. Mordred's senses seemed to suddenly sharpen. He could hear his own steady breath as well as bird song from a distance, he could see the strange markings on some of the enemies' faces, the flies that were buzzing around the horses, he could smell the sweat coming from his horse's flanks. For a moment the two foes stared each other down, each waiting for the other to charge.

Mordred scanned the faces at the front line of the Saxon army. The clumsy symbols that were drawn on some of their faces didn't seem to be any indication of rank. Mordred suddenly felt the childish urge to find out what they meant. He grasped his horse's reins tighter and kept looking at the faces to see if he could at least identify the leader, if there was one. The night before a Saxon messenger had come telling them that if they wanted to avoid a battle, they would have to surrender Camelot and its surrounding land. The messenger had said he came on behalf of a man called Stephan but whether he was the leader of this rebellion wasn't clear. They had quickly sent the messenger back to tell his master that they would face him in battle and some of the soldiers had told him to deliver much ruder messages.

The tension was becoming almost unbearable. The horse was fidgeting beneath him, and the weight of his sword and armour felt like it was getting heavier and heavier. Mordred could hear some of the horses behind him whinny. He was almost becoming impatient . . .

The Saxons suddenly roared. Then they charged. One great swarm of screaming Saxon raced towards Mordred. The weight of fear in his stomach turned to courage. Mordred lifted his sword and gave the signal to attack. He charged forward, the sound of hundreds of hoof beats told him that the men, his men, had followed. He came closer and closer to the Saxon's- then, in a snap instant, he heard the crash of metal on flesh as the two sides collided. Mordred unsheathed his sword.

Screams of the wounded and dying pierced the air. From all directions came Saxons, trying to hack away at his horse's legs, trying to drag him off. Each time Mordred was slicing away at their heads, trying to break their skulls. Specks of blood would fly into his face, a metallic tang had replaced the pleasant smell of grass. Mordred could feel distantly cuts on his arms and legs, there were no thoughts in his head other than 'kill as many Saxons as you can'. He could no longer see the difference between who was fighting for him and who was fighting against him. Mordred saw men fall under the sword, axe or spear but no face was familiar, there was no instinct to save others, only to survive.

Something knocked the wind out of him and he tumbled of his horse. He landed on his back but quickly pushed himself up, a tall Saxon warrior with dirty yellow hair ran towards him, axe held high. The Saxon swung at his head. Mordred ducked, and kept weaving out of reach of the axe. The Saxon ran at him again. Mordred stood still and then ducked at the last possible moment. The Saxon's weight was his own downfall. He stumbled and fell to the ground. Mordred brought his sword down on the Saxon's back before he could rise again. The Saxon didn't move. Mordred left the body and threw himself into the bloody fray.

The crowd of bodies was starting to thin, Mordred noticed after an hour of fighting. There were bodies covering the ground and trying not to trip over them was becoming more difficult. He also noticed that more of his own men were standing than there were Saxon warriors but this didn't bring any sense of triumph to Mordred yet. So long as there were Saxons fighting him, there was no victory. Suddenly Mordred felt something fly past his ear, and for a second he thought that it had been aimed at him, but when he turned round he saw that the arrow had landed in the throat of a Saxon behind him. Whoever had fired it had either terrible aim or they had saved him from being stabbed by the dagger the Saxon was holding, so Mordred looked in the direction the arrow had come from. One of the surrounding hills would be a good place to shoot from but Mordred couldn't remember ordering archers onto the hills and he didn't remember any of the knights saying they would position archers there either. A flash of red hair and the numbness that had engulfed Mordred's body was filled by shock and dread.

Moira was standing on the top of one of the hills firing arrows in every direction. Mordred was partially grateful for the tunic she wore which had the Pendragon symbol on it; it would prevent any of his army for mistaking her for an enemy. He felt something run up behind him, and when he saw it was another Saxon, he fought and kept fighting until he was at a distance from Moira. Mordred wouldn't allow himself to turn around and drag her away from the battle, tempting as it was. She would have to take care of herself now, as every other soldier had to. Mordred could see some of the knights as he fought, only glimpses of them, each were fighting with their own Saxon warrior. The number of Saxons was decreasing, and he could walk without having to push or hack to move. He could see some of the Saxons were running, while others were still fighting to the end. He saw Agravaine finish off the small Saxon who he had been fighting with. Agravaine's face was covered in blood, some of it probably not his own and there was a gash in his arm but when he looked up and smirked at Mordred, he could have been playing at a sport. Then, for some reason, Agravaine's smile turned into a face of terror. Mordred whirled round. A Saxon was only inches away, his sword raised to attack. Mordred didn't have enough time to raise his own sword- he was frozen. A sword broke through the Saxon's chest. He gave a cry of pain and was pushed off the end of the sword. His body fell away to reveal Moira, her eyes wild and alert.

"And that's three times I've saved your life." she shouted. Mordred was too stunned to do anything, he didn't even try to stop her as she ran off to fight a Saxon who was about to butcher one of his soldiers. He could see now that there were so few Saxon's remaining that he needn't fight. Those who weren't dead were injured or they were throwing their weapons down at the feet of his soldiers, who now outnumbered them. Agravaine came up behind him and patted his shoulder.

"We have won, my lord. We are victorious." Agravaine said, and he started to shake him when he didn't get a response. Mordred was still in shock. How had she managed to follow them all the way here without being seen? He jumped when he saw Agravaine peering into his face. If they had won, he would need to get the injured treated and then return home, as quickly as possible. He would have to deal with Moira later.

He pushed Agravaine's arms off him. "Set up camp and get the injured tended to." was all he said.

"Where my lord?"

"At the top of the hill, the one nearest where we camped last night." Mordred replied, with no joy in his voice. Agravaine bowed and walked off, he looked almost angry that Mordred hadn't rejoiced at their victory, but then Agravaine had always seen victory as a cause for celebration with no thought of the dead. Mordred didn't hate him for it, it was just the way Agravaine was. He loved the fight and was not always the most gentle or courteous man but he was not a blood thirsty brute as others often thought he was. Mordred began to walk to the top of the hill, occasionally helping an injured soldier to his feet. He would celebrate his triumph when he returned to Camelot where there would be others to celebrate with him. For now, he would brace himself for the number of the dead by letting the numbness embrace him again.

-0-

He had half hoped that Moira's presence would mean the return of her band of healers, however when he came to see the wounded, it was clear that Moira had just come on her own. The screams of pain were enough to make Mordred wish he had stayed out of the tent, the smell of blood, the bandages and faces were enough to make Mordred wish he had stayed in his own tent. He had thought that a visit to the injured would give the men some morale, now he realised that nothing he could say would ease their suffering. They were in too much pain to notice anything. As he surveyed the tent, he could see that instead of professional healers helping the injured, it was only the less injured helping the gravely injured. The cuts that he had received on his legs and arms had been tended to, and even Lancelot, who had been hit by a club, had told him that he must have been fortunate not to receive serious injury.

Just when Mordred prepared himself to leave, an angry voice said to him "You won't be leaving here without helping." It was Moira, who else would glare at him like that, as if he was nothing but a misbehaved child. Compared to the Moira he had seen on the battle field, this Moira was very tired looking, she was slightly pale and her hair was sticking out all over the place. Mordred had planned on asking her what she was thinking of participating in a battle, but now that she was here, his questions became pointless. He didn't have the energy to be criticised by her or argue with her, he didn't have the energy to pull away when she grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the nearest injured man. When she told him to wrap some bandages around the man's bleeding arm, he did so silently, and when she kept dragging him to the next injured soldier and the next, he helped her without saying a word. If she gave him bandages to hold, he would take them, if she told him to hold down a man while she stitched up a wound, he did so. So far it was the only way Mordred felt he could help anybody, and as he noticed, they were the only ones who could move around without limping. After they had finally tended to the last of the wounded, Moira went outside with Mordred following her. The noise of the tent had considerably lessened by the time they left, as most of its occupants were now sleeping from a drink that Moira had given to each of them after she had finished with them.

It was still bright when they left the tent, which was strange because Mordred had felt that hours had passed in that tent while he was with Moira. Moira was looking over to the field where they had fought, a glazed look in her eyes. When she didn't say anything, Mordred understood it as Moira allowing him to ask his questions.

"Why did you fight in the battle?"

"I don't like to leave anything to chance, if they were coming for Camelot then I wanted to make sure they didn't get it. I am not the person to let others take my fate into their hands, so I went and fought for myself." she said in a bored tone, her eyes still glazed over.

Mordred wasn't quite sure what to say, he couldn't chide her as she had saved his life however something was telling him that he must make her understand the battle field is no place for a woman. He wanted to go back to his tent and sleep for the rest of the day, he knew Garet had done so and he knew that the rest of the knights were giving out orders from inside their tents. His bones started to ache at the thought when a loud shout made him alert again.

"Mordred, my lord!" It was Agravaine, smiling with his hand wrapped up. Mordred looked at Moira, the far away look in her eyes was gone.

"I have to go, I will speak with you again soon." Mordred said. She didn't look angry or disappointed, she just made a non-committal noise and headed towards the next tent.

"Come on Mordred!" Agravaine called impatiently.

Mordred sighed and shook his head. He would have to speak with Moira later, whatever Agravaine wanted, it was better to get it over with, so he followed Agravaine into his tent. When he got there, the knights, who had been sitting in chairs in a circle, stood up and did something Mordred wouldn't have expected from all of them. They cried at the same "Long live king Mordred! Long live king Mordred!". All of a sudden Mordred wasn't tired any more and he gestured them to sit back down. He saw a seat had been left for him and took it, and then he noticed the small table that was in the centre of the circle, which was holding over half a dozen wine goblets. He picked the one up that was nearest to him and raised it in a toast, the knights followed in his example. As they drank Agravaine leant forward and what he said nearly made Mordred choke.

"So when are you going to tell us about that strange woman of yours?" Everyone suddenly put their drinks down, each of them looked at Mordred with interest on their faces.

There would be no way out of this, so Mordred kept calm, finished his drink and replied "She is not my woman, she is one of the healers everyone wanted to find, and to be honest I know little about her myself. What I do know is that she will not appreciate being called anyone's woman, you saw how she fought out there today."

The look of amazement on each of their faces was amusing but then Lancelot chose to spoil it. "You let _women_ fight Mordred?"

Mordred kept his face blank, ignoring the annoying look in Lancelot's eyes. "She chose to follow the army, I didn't know she would fight, I didn't even know she could fight." he said.

Lancelot was about to say something when they heard shouting from outside. Mordred stood up and walked over to the entrance, there was something happening in the tent that Moira had gone into. Despite the knight's questions, he stormed over and pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered outside the tent.

At first what he saw confused him. Moira was standing between a cowering yellow haired boy and a tall, angry looking soldier. The soldier was brandishing his sword at the boy and yelling at the top of his lungs for Moira to move out of the way. Mordred looked again at the boy and he realised that the boy was a Saxon. He lacked the armour which most of his soldiers had, even the poorer ones. Moira was staying silent, even though the soldier was clearly spraying her with spittle.

"What is going on in here?" The entire tent fell silent and all the men bowed- except Moira. She stayed where she was, looking defiant. The boy was still shaking and shot Mordred a nervous look.

Mordred pointed to the soldier "You, what is your quarrel?"

The man swallowed, he looked up at Mordred, fear in his eyes. "The runt is a Saxon my lord, I thought it was disgraceful to have him here when he is our enemy." He replied shakily.

Mordred faced Moira, she still didn't move or say anything. Mordred said to her "What is the boy doing here Moira? He is one of the enemy."

She replied "The boy was injured and I thought it would be kinder to help him than kill him." Mordred looked again closely at the boy, he was huddled on the floor clutching his left arm. His face was that of pure terror, he could be no older than fourteen. He looked back to Moira, their eyes met briefly for a moment, hers were full of defiance. He remembered what she had said earlier, she had saved his life three times and on three counts he must repay her.

"The boy is to live." There was a small outcry at that but it quickly finished when he spoke again "The boy is to live but he will not be the responsibility of anyone but her." He pointed to Moira, "Only you will look after him, if you want him to live then he is your responsibility." She nodded and bent down next to the boy and started to inspect his wounds. Mordred was about to leave when he saw the look the soldier had on his face, it was loathing and he was looking at Moira. "And if anyone directly harms this woman or the boy." He looked around the tent "They will answer to me." and leaving Moira behind, he left the tent only to be met by Agravaine's surprised face.

"Why?" he asked. He could have been asking about the Saxon boy, he could have been asking about Moira, Mordred didn't care.

"Because I had to, she had saved my life, I had to repay her somehow. Besides" he said "Arthur won the love he did from both Saxon's and Briton's, saving his life, it might be useful later on."

"How will saving a Saxon be useful to us?" sneered Lancelot. Before Mordred could reply, Moira came out of the tent, her arm supporting the boy. For a moment all the knights just stared at her, but then Moira spoke.

"What are you lot staring at?" she asked angrily, she looked at the Saxon then looked back at them "Haven't you ever seen a Saxon before?" and then to Garet, who was right in her way she said "Would you be so kind as to move please, don't you have something better to do?" Garet stumbled out of her way, speechless and they all watched as Moira and her Saxon charge walked out of sight.

Mordred fought the temptation not to laugh, Garet's face was flushed with embarrassment. Mordred clapped his hands together "Well, shall we return to our tent and plan our trip home then?" he asked cheerily.

-0-

The return to Camelot was much more festive than the outward journey. Flower petals were thrown down from the ramparts and windows, and the people were cheering loudly. He could hear them calling his name as they opened the gates. The army rode in with every sense of a victory. Their banners held high, the knights waving to everyone, families rushing to meet their husbands, fathers, brothers and sons. Mordred could see at the top of the stairs his mother standing in a dress of magnificent red, a smile on her face. Mordred looked to his left where Moira was, a small smile on her face as she watched the people gather near them. No family came forward to greet her as she dismounted and walked up the steps into Camelot, she made a quick bow in Morgause's direction and walked inside. Mordred watched her go, feeling relieved that he had managed to convince her to stay.

He had asked her all the way if she would stay in the castle with him, he had kept saying that it would be better there, she would have a proper bed, and she would be honoured among the residents. At first she had kept refusing, telling Mordred that she liked to travel and she dislike the life at court. "And do you really think that others will be happy to see me there?" she had said, astride the horse she had found before they left, "I don't think I will suit life at court, I'm far too used to doing things my own way." However, as they had drew nearer to Camelot, she finally agreed although this was mostly due to the fact that she had made Mordred swear that the Saxon boy, called Stephan, would be allowed to stay at Camelot with her. Mordred and Moira dismounted as they saw Morgause come towards him. She bent forward and kissed Mordred on both cheeks.

"My son, the victorious high king Mordred." she exclaimed happily. The crowd parted for them as they entered the castle doors together. For five minutes, Mordred was swamped with questions and blessings while his mother stayed at his side. He could see Moira leaning against a wall, watching him while he was surrounded. Mordred decided that then was the best time for an introduction, while Morgause was in a good mood so he pulled his mother in Moira's direction. Moira pushed herself of the wall and came towards them. She gave a small nod of her head as a show of respect, this time Mordred didn't mind.

"Mother, this is Moira, she is quite an extraordinary woman, I will tell you about her later." Mordred said.

"You are quite the oddity Moira, I didn't need my son to tell me that." Morgause said, flashing her pearly teeth at Moira. Moira just smiled at her.

"Thank you." she replied, as if it was a compliment and she gave another little bow.

When she stood up Mordred said "Mother, Moira is to stay with us as my honoured guest, she has done me many favours and it would be rude not to show gratitude." At the word 'gratitude' Mordred smiled at Moira, but they hadn't noticed that Morgause hadn't been listening. She was staring at the small wooden crucifix around Moira's neck.

Chapter five: The Ring of Gold

Mordred was only a few days away from his coronation, and already he could see trouble between Moira and his mother.

His interest in Moira hadn't been shaken by her Christianity, although he was slightly surprised at her choice of faith. He had always believed that Christian women were kept away from learning, and even among the Old religion, women being taught and wanting to fight, was rare. Still, he supposed, that could be because in Orkney, where he had been raised, Morgause wouldn't stand any form Christianity other than the monk who taught Mordred and his half- brothers literacy and other clerkly skills, so in truth Mordred hadn't met many Christian women. He also reckoned that he judged them by Guinevere's standards, she had been the strongest female believer in Christianity at the court, she had been one of the many who had persuaded Arthur to turn away from his own religion, and give so much freedom to the Christians. If Guinevere had met Moira, she probably would have fainted in shock. Not only because of Moira's strange habits, but because of her utter lack of fear of the nobility and royalty. This was one of the many things that caused Morgause to dislike Moira.

Morgause had made it clear from the start that she didn't think that having Moira stay as a resident was a good idea. She had always told Mordred and others that Christians were weak, and their women were even weaker, so to have a woman like Moira arrive was the same thing as having herself corrected, and Mordred knew that Morgause hated to be proved wrong. Another thing that caused her to dislike Moira was Moira's lack of fear of her. Morgause enjoyed exerting an air of authority over others, and if she caused fear in others, so long as they obeyed and respected her, she would be happy. Moira however, was simply polite whenever they met and would always look her in the eye when they spoke, instead of having her head bowed as Morgause was used to. Morgause took her lack of fear, and sometimes brutally honest opinions, as a sign of disrespect, and was often complaining to Mordred that he should throw her out of the castle, "If she wants to stay here she should learn to respect her superiors." Morgause would say to him whenever she complained about Moira. What Morgause couldn't see though, was that this was the way Moira spoke to everyone. The knights had accepted her blunt way of speaking to them, and had quickly stopped looking surprised or angered when she addressed them directly, no bow or 'sir' of any sort. In fact, they had rather started to enjoy her company as Mordred did, even Agravaine seemed to like her. Mordred also had to admire her patience with his mother, who would often pass sly comments at her, making reference to the fact that she was poor, or constantly asking her why no one had come to see her and why no one in the village knew her. Moira would either simply ignore her or give her the same answer she gave anyone else who asked which was that she had no family in Camelot. Much as Mordred loved his mother, he had to admit that her constant badgering of him to get rid of Moira, and her insults were starting to get annoying.

"Why can't you leave her be?" Mordred asked her once, "She saved my life, she saved others' lives, she means no harm and she is certainly enjoyable to be around. Why can't you see it?"

"Because she has no respect for us, for you or for me. She has given us no true demonstration of loyalty other than the fact she saved you when she knew you could pay her back. She's using you to make sure her own religion stays in power." Morgause hissed back.

That wasn't true though, as throughout all her time in Camelot, Moira had never mentioned anything of Mordred's policy for religion, the only time she had ever mentioned it had been back in the camp when he was injured. Moira had made it clear in some of their conversations, and certainly in the way she acted towards Stephan, that she didn't want a war waged on all the Saxons in Briton. Instead she suggested that Mordred make alliances with all the Saxon tribes and all the land barons, and that he should invite the leaders to his coronation as a show of good faith, and Mordred had to agree that did seem the best course of action. He had no wish to be remembered as the king that plunged Briton into civil war again.

Stephan, who followed Moira like a shadow, also had earned his mother's distrust, although on that account, Mordred couldn't blame her. The Saxons had been one of the biggest threats that had faced the Old religion since the Romans had left, and after years of fighting and quarrelling with one another over land, very few Saxons were trusted. However Stephan it seemed was almost harmless, he would always bow to Mordred when he saw him, and would always thank him and Moira for saving him whenever they spoke. Stephan told him that he was a son of a fisher man near the coast, and he had been recruited to take his father's place. He didn't know who had organised the rebellion, all he knew was that men on horses had come to where he lived and had demanded that he or his father must fight. He had heard that it was a group of Saxon warriors who had led the army but when Mordred asked who they were, Stephan said he didn't know. Moira was the only one who didn't ask him for more information, and she kept telling Mordred to leave him alone. Mordred used to catch him and Moira together in the court yard, teaching Stephan how to read and write. Some people thought they were brother and sister, despite the lack of similarity. However each day as the coronation drew nearer, Mordred would see Moira less and less, if he did, she would be helping put up decorations, sweeping floors and sometimes giving out instructions to others. Stephan would sometimes be there too. He was eager to help, but the way that others regarded him, sometimes spitting at his feet, meant that he would have to stay away. Stephan would then just leave to go out in the court yard, or stand in the door ways watching Moira.

The morning of the coronation arrived. Mordred lay wide awake on his bed, even though he had slept little the night before. He had tied his black braids back behind his head and was wearing a simple but well-made white tunic. He looked at himself in the looking glass that was beside him, it showed him a small face with high cheekbones, his face was tight with worry and his blue eyes seemed to be larger. Moira had commented on his looks the day before.

"You're getting paler." she had said.

"Am I? I suppose its natural, most of Briton will be arriving to watch me take the throne." True to what he had agreed with Moira and the knights, Mordred had invited the barons and the lesser kings throughout Briton. He had also invited some of the kings of the Saxon tribes who had been loyal to his father, and would now pledge loyalty to him. Some of them had arrived, and those who hadn't had sent messengers to tell him that they would arrive on the day.

"I think you could borrow some of your mothers face paint and add a little colour to your pale skin?" Mordred had laughed at that, Moira could always make him laugh when she wanted him to. He would have continued to find it funny had his mother not suggested it to him in all seriousness. Now that the coronation was here though, maybe it had been his mother's attempt to comfort him. It had been a bad one, he had left the room as soon as she had said it, but comfort was not one of Morgause's strongest points.

He heard movement from outside. It was too late now to think of what he could have done. Mordred pushed himself of the bed and pulled on his boots. He looked at the door way and for a moment wondered what everyone else was doing. He shook himself, a coronation required all his attention. This was the official beginning of his reign. It had to be perfect- he had to be perfect. He opened the door. He could smell the meat being cooked for the feast from the kitchen, he heard servants rushing about doing last minute cleaning or decorating. He would take one last walk before he was high king. He breathed in and let the air calm him down. This was it, he thought, this was the beginning of everything I have worked for. It won't go wrong.

In the great hall, where the round table would normally be, was a crowd of people. They were divided in two separate groups, so that between them, was a way for the new high king to ascend to the throne. The throne had draped on it Mordred's own symbol, a black background with a red dragon. Next to it stood the Bishop holding, on top of a small purple cushion, a crown of gold studded with garnets. Behind him was Morgause, dressed in gold with a belt fashioned with small emeralds, round her neck was a thick gold torque, and on her head was a small circlet of gold. In the hall there was silence as every eye was fixed at the arch way from which the new high king was to come through. Banners of every noble, king and baron hung from the walls making the hall vibrant with colour but hardly anyone was admiring them now as a figure clad in white approached the archway. Mordred paused under the archway, everything was as he expected it to be and more. As he walked towards the throne, he could feel the heads turn to keep him in their gaze but he didn't feel nervous anymore because as he drew closer to the throne, he could see Morgause beaming at him. He reached the Bishop and went down on one knee. He felt the Bishop place the crown on his head. A sense of joy fell to the place where the crown was down to the tips of his boots. Mordred watched the Bishop's feet stand back, "Rise now" (Mordred started to smile) "High king Mordred."

Mordred stood and faced his people. As he turned, he was hit by the wave of their cheering. Agravaine was shouting his name, everyone was raising their fists in salute. Garet and the others were cheering too!

Mordred raised his hand for silence and said to the crowd. "I, Mordred Pendragon, your high king do swear to you, that under my rule all shall be equal." he saw some of the Saxon leaders mutter to their neighbours. "Saxons, Celts and Britons shall be equal, as well as this I swear that all men shall be free to worship as they chose." The crowd erupted in noise again. Mordred took a step towards them and they rushed to meet him. Agravaine, Gawain and Garet pushed their way through the crowd and were clapping him on the back and shaking his hand when Mordred saw Moira, standing a few feet away from him. She wasn't wearing anything fancy, there was no jewellery or face paint unlike all the other ladies he could see. Moira gave him her short bow of the head then headed into the nearest empty corridor and somehow Mordred felt that that one small movement meant that he had truly earned her respect. Feeling at last, a full sense of triumph Mordred led his people into one of the smaller halls to let the servants prepare the feast.

-0-

The festivities lasted most of the day, bards sang their most beautiful songs, music was played and dancing took up most of the room in the great hall. Mordred, for most of it, stayed sat in the throne speaking with leaders who wanted to expand or wanted to create alliances. Morgause had sat at his right hand most of the time, and had often tried to get him to dance with some of the women who, Mordred noticed, were all unmarried and were daughters of friends of hers. Mordred knew what Morgause was hoping for but Mordred was only twenty and was in no hurry to be tied down to a wife. They were pretty, all of them wore colourful dresses and expensive jewellery but none of them had taken Mordred's fancy. He could see Agravaine eyeing all of them but Mordred doubted he was interested in marriage. Agravaine hated to feel bound to anything unless he chose to. Occasionally his mother left her seat to speak with someone or join in a dance but Mordred remained undisturbed and content.

Hours were slipping by, and the heat of the fire and the wine were making Mordred feel slightly drowsy. He wanted to see Moira again but he hadn't seen her since the coronation, she had probably gone back to her room to avoid the mess and noise of the feast. When they had returned from the battle, there had been a feast but she had stayed away. When Mordred asked her why the next morning, she had replied "I prefer peace and quiet." Yes, that was most likely it. Mordred would have to speak with her tomorrow. She usually stayed in her room well until midday, would he have time to go and speak-. There! There she was. Standing, talking with Lancelot. Without even thinking Mordred stood up and made his way towards them. They appeared to be arguing, or rather, Lancelot was getting redder while Moira remained calm and cool.

"I won't go." Lancelot was saying "She made the decision, I won't go and beg her to change her mind."

"She's miserable, I could see it in her face. She may be living in a nunnery but she isn't a nun. Of that I am certain." Moira told him.

"How do you know she hasn't taken the veil now?" Lancelot asked angrily.

"If she hadn't done it by the time you arrived, I don't think she ever will, besides I told her, now that he is gone, there is nothing preventing you two-"

Mordred quickly realised who they were talking about and coughed. Lancelot gave them both an angry look, made a small bow in Mordred's direction and stormed of. Moira didn't look at all bothered at Lancelot's rudeness but then Moira didn't seem to be bothered by anything.

"Quite spectacular isn't it?" Moira said.

"Yes it is." Mordred waited for her to add something but when she didn't, he thought that maybe she wanted him to say something. He decided to ask her something "Moira?"

"Yes?"

"Why don't you bow or address the knights or me as 'my lord'?"

She pondered her answer and then, seeing Mordred's curious face, asked him a question. "Why should I address you or anyone else like that?"

He didn't know whether she was being serious or just annoying him so he gave her a simple answer "Because it's a sign of respect."

"And why should I give you or anyone else a sign of respect? Why don't you bow to me when I meet you?" she asked.

He saw she was serious about this now and Mordred was unsure how to answer her, "Because I am royalty and the knights are of noble blood." He prayed she would at least stop asking about this. It served him right though, for even mentioning the subject.

"And what makes you different from me? What is the difference between my blood and noble blood? Why can't nobles be judged on how they act rather than their lineage?" She was enjoying herself now, she was smiling and even though it was infuriating, he was glad to know that she wasn't trying to use it to criticise him.

Mordred was struck by an idea, he could play her at her own game. "And what would it take for someone to earn your respect Moira?" For one moment she looked at him impressed, but before she could answer, someone interrupted them.

"Now that is a question we would all like to know the answer to." Morgause said loudly. Quite a few heads turned in their direction. Morgause swelled with satisfaction thinking that Moira would at least be embarrassed at the attention she was getting. The sound had decreased slightly now that a few people were listening in to hear Moira's reply, Mordred could see that some of the noble women were pointing at Moira's odd clothes. He sighed angrily, he wished Morgause would just accept Moira, he didn't expect them to become friends but she could at least act civilly towards her. Moira clenched her fists and then unclenched them, her face was devoid of any sign of embarrassment or anger.

"I don't judge people on who they are, no matter what their family ties are." Moira said levelly to a smirking Morgause. Moira shifted her gaze back to Mordred, "I judge people on how they act as it is action that really defines whether someone is noble or not." she finished clearly. Mordred's insides froze over, what she had said plus the way she was looking at him now, was surely an indication that she still hadn't forgiven him for what he had done.

At first he wanted to say something but when he heard some of the guests whispering, he thought it would be better if they spoke of it the next day, so he changed the topic. "Do you dance?" he asked quietly. Moira blanched.

"No." Morgause scoffed from behind her but Moira ignored her.

So did Mordred. "Why not?"

"Because I am not a brilliant dancer."

"You're not that graceful or you just don't know how to?" Morgause asked.

"A bit of both really." Moira replied without facing her, "I haven't danced in years."

Mordred found himself saying the words without even meaning to "Would you like to dance Moira?"

Both women had shocked expressions for a few seconds but Moira quickly recovered. "No." was all she said, as she walked past him and out of the great hall. When Mordred faced Morgause, she had a mixture of both surprise and pleasure on her face.

Mordred swiftly excused himself and went to drown his feeling of disappointment in more wine before Morgause tried to drag him into another conversation with another noble woman.

-0-

Mordred woke up the next morning, and was almost surprised to find a woman lying next to him. She was still fast asleep so Mordred rolled out of the bed and started searching for some clothes. When he found a dark red tunic and some plain breeches, he quickly put them on and checked to see if she was awake. As he was tying his belt he watched the woman who had lain next to him breathe gently. At first he tried to remember her name but then he remembered that she hadn't told him, she had been one of the serving girls at the feast. In fact he couldn't even remember leaving the great hall, or how she had come here. He searched through al of his memories of the feast: talking with the leaders and lesser kings, his mother pointing out potential brides, seeing Moira in the great hall, over hearing the discussion with Lancelot and (with an unpleasant jolt) the conversation he had had with Moira and her refusal to dance with him. There would be gossip about that for weeks. Then Mordred slowly could remember what had happened after that, it was like trying to call back a dream. He had stayed in the great hall, had spoken to few others and had watched the guests dwindle away back to their chambers. He remembered being too tired to move and the servant maid pulling him back into his chambers. From there, he didn't need to remember anything. The servant maid gave a small snore and rolled over, her deep brown hair covering most of the pillows. Once he was fully dressed, Mordred headed towards the door. He wouldn't and couldn't wait for her to prepare herself for the day, he just hoped she would be gone by the next time he came in here. Mordred pulled open the door, he would need Lancelot to go and inform the kings of lesser Briton of the new high king-

SMACK! Mordred doubled over, someone had punched him right in the stomach. He went to grab his sword but before he could he was punched again, this time in the face. There were stars winking in his eyes as he used the doorway to try and steady himself. When he stopped seeing double he saw Moira standing in front of him, her face almost unnaturally calm for someone who could hit so hard. Mordred was panting, still feeling winded.

"If you had any common sense, you'd be avoiding that sort of thing." Moira said.

Mordred suddenly regained his breath and gave her an outraged look. She had absolutely no right to hit him, and no woman would ever hit him. Not even when he was just Mordred, and as he was now high king, she shouldn't even be outside his chambers unless she had been invited. Which was never going to happen Mordred swore.

"How dare you attack me!" he said coldly, he stepped closer to her until he was right in front of her face, resisting the temptation to shake that perfectly calm expression of it, "I am your high king, I demand respect and loyalty from all my subjects. I have given you freedom to treat others as you please, I took you into my castle, I let you keep your Saxon soldier, I excuse your unusual behaviour and this is how you repay me."

Moira continued to look calm as she replied "I wouldn't think of it as being attacked, I would see it as having some sense knocked into you."

"And why would I need sense beaten into me? You have no right to even say so, you are my guest, I am your host. I am your king-"

"And so was Arthur, as well as your father however that didn't stop you from betraying him." she said, her voice slightly raised.

"Arthur was already being betrayed! I have already explained it to you! He is dead now so you might as well accept it Moira. I am the new high king, he named me the heir and now I have fulfilled his last request." he exploded.

"His last request was to see you dead Mordred, that's why he fought you at Calmlan. You betrayed him worse than anyone, and then you killed him!"

"Well if you loved Arthur so much, why didn't you save him and leave me to die?"

"Because if I did that, I would be worse than you with your contempt for life, and enough people had died already in that battle!"

Mordred nearly shouted at her but then he thought he wouldn't let her have the satisfaction of making him lose control. He moved away from her and through gritted teeth, asked "What did you mean by I should avoid that 'sort of thing'?"

"Well unless you want to be killed for a ring of gold by your child that you didn't know about, I would leave that until you were married." Moira gestured towards the sleeping maid.

"A ring of gold! You mean the crown!" Mordred retorted. He only seemed to get angrier as he saw Moira stay perfectly relaxed, almost peaceful. "You unbearable woman. You can forget staying here, you should go and take that Saxon with you."

He was breathing heavily, wishing she would say something. Wishing she would shout, scream or just leave, any sign that she had understood what he had said. But she didn't, she just stood there, still cool and collected. Mordred felt the inferno that had been in his chest start to shrink. It was getting harder to keep hating her or even find the strength to shout at her. She was a difficult woman, but she had saved him three times. No, she had hit him, she had been so disrespectful towards him and others. But she had saved him, despite what she said he had done, and when he thought of what he had ordered her to do, to leave Camelot, the very thought made him more miserable.

"Fine. Fine, I'll go. But not because you ordered me to but because I want to leave-"

"No, you don't have to leave." Mordred said quickly, praying she didn't hear the small tone of panic. She neither moved nor spoke. If she was surprised she didn't show it, and Mordred had always thought that his mother was good at keeping her emotions under control. "You don't have to leave or Stephan, I was just angry-"

"At me for punching you, I think that's understandable." Moira finished for him. Mordred nodded, he had planned on adding an apology, however it looked like he wouldn't need to.

"Why do you fear that I will be killed by a bastard child? I didn't think that you liked me as a person." he said.

"I am not sure I do, but I thought you of all people would know the danger. Besides its not something I like having to put up with." Moira replied.

"Put up with what? Having bastards as kings?" Mordred asked. Moira pointed towards his chamber door. "Oh, but how does that concern you?"

"It just annoys me, and as you are high king, you need to make sure you don't repeat past mistakes. A kingdom divided by separate factions fighting the crown is a weak one."

Mordred watched her put a hand to her chest, where her crucifix was hanging. "One of your Christian morals is fidelity, is that what makes you uneasy?"

"No, I just don't want history to repeat itself. You might not understand, seeing as you have won, but for those who lost their family, it is a different situation." she said with a faraway look in her eyes.

Mordred was about to ask her whether she had lost someone in the battle but at that moment, Agravaine came around the corner. "Mordred, my lord. The guests are preparing to leave. You should come and see them off." He stopped short when he saw Moira.

"I will speak with you at midday Moira, in the great hall." Mordred said to her. She didn't reply or look at him.

"What was that about Mordred?" Agravaine asked as they turned the corner.

"Nothing Agravaine, it was just an argument."

Agravaine continued to throw disbelieving looks throughout the whole time Mordred spent with him as he said farewell to the leaders.

Chapter six: The Traveller woman

"What in the God's name happened to you?" Mordred asked Agravaine, who had just come in from the practice yard sporting a black eye and he was positively livid. Some of the other knights, even Gawain, were all sniggering as Agravaine grabbed the nearest stool from one of the servants. Mordred had been leaning against the window, talking with his mother in one of his personal apartments when he saw Agravaine hurrying away from the practice yard with half the knights following him.

Gawain stopped sniggering "It seems that Agravaine underestimated Moira's temper and her strength."

At first, Mordred thought he was joking, and then he remembered how much it had hurt when she had beaten him the other day. Looking at Agravaine, as well as the grins on Gawain's face, Mordred felt relieved that he hadn't been so badly bruised. Still, one part of Mordred felt that he deserved it. Mordred had thought that Agravaine would have enough sense not to tell his mother about what he had seen. He had been wrong. After his talk with Moira, Mordred had gone to see the guests off as custom said he should. Then he had gone to the Round table, listened to what the knights had to say, all of it rather boring, and to his surprise (and joy) Lancelot had asked him if he could go to Brittany, his birth place. Mordred had granted it, and after they had departed, he had run straight into Morgause who had been standing literally outside the door. Mordred suspected she had been eavesdropping on the conversation.

At that moment Agravaine chose to say "Don't way lay him too long Mother, he wants to speak with Moira as soon as he can." He had smiled at seeing Mordred's angry face, and had quickly walked away before Morgause could ask him anything. Ever since Morgause's behaviour towards Moira had gotten worse, she would loudly complain about a smell if Moira was in the room, and there had been rumours that he and Moira were lovers. He had to tell Garet, Gawain and most of the other knights that he and Moira were nowhere close to lovers whenever they had asked. They hadn't been convinced when he had told them, but when Moira had called him an idiot the night before, after Mordred had suggested they expand their empire, they believed him.

"How dare she, what made her think she could do this?" Morgause cried.

"Why did she do this to you?" Mordred asked. Morgause gave him a shocked look, as if surprised that he wasn't furious at Moira. Which he wasn't, if he knew Moira, she wouldn't just go hitting Agravaine without some profound reason. From the shifty look Agravaine had, Mordred could tell what it was.

"I asked her if she was she your . . . lover." Garet tutted, then Mordred realised that Agravaine had changed the wording of what he had said. No wonder she had punched him. She had been getting snappy over the past few days, ever since Agravaine had started the cursed rumour. People had started to whisper behind her back and when Mordred spoke to her, they had to do it in private, the first time they had talked with each other after that morning, they had received stares and a few servant girls had come out to look at them in the courtyard. What had made it worse was that Mordred apparently favoured her advice, it was true that she would sometimes suggest how he should run his kingdom. One of her ideas had been to send soldiers to be stationed in the villages that were under his rule for protection. She had many good ideas, some of them were interesting, and when he or she mentioned them to the other knights, most of them agreed they were good ideas. The idea of sending soldiers to some of the most vulnerable villages to Saxon attacks had been welcomed by all of the knights. Mordred had even sent messengers to the leaders of the villages to see their reaction. However that had been the only idea of hers that Mordred had allowed to become policy- he was king and he wouldn't allow a woman to decide law. She had said that he shouldn't repeat past mistakes, and one of Arthur's numerous mistakes had been to let his wife to influence him too often. But one of the things he had noticed over talking with her was that she never tried to promote her religion over any other religion, unlike Morgause.

Morgause's next words shook him out of his thoughts. "Well go and bring her here then! She shall learn respect for her superiors," she looked at Mordred, "especially the king's brother."

That wiped the smile of Gawain and Garet's faces. If Morgause had her way, Moira could end up in a dungeon or thrown out of Camelot. When no-one moved Morgause lost her patience. "Go! Bring her here now!" she barked at them.

They all looked at Mordred, waiting for what he had to say . . . to give them their orders. He had been the one to bring her here therefore, in their eyes, Moira was his responsibility. Fine, he would have to address this, it also might get rid of the impression he favoured Moira. "Bring Moira here, tell her it is important." he said to Gawain. Gawain clenched his jaw, Garet and Lionel looked like they wanted to object but none of them said anything as he left the room. The pleasant atmosphere that had filled most of Mordred's day was gone. Moira was strange, unpredictable however she was liked by quite a few people. To earn Morgause's dislike and then be punished by her was no easy thing to think about. All of the Orkney brothers knew that, as much as they loved her, they couldn't deny that she was harsh on those who displeased her. Mordred stood waiting, along with the others, for Moira to arrive. Even though there were small chairs and stools left empty, Morgause and Agravaine were the only ones sat down. Morgause was also the only one who seemed happy at the situation, the corners of her lips kept twitching into a small smile. Agravaine continued to look disgruntled, the fact that the one who had humiliated him was facing punishment apparently didn't bring him any satisfaction.

The time it took for Gawain to return with Moira felt like hours to Mordred, but it was in fact only minutes before Moira arrived in the room. She glanced around the room, she was very calm for someone who surely knew that she was facing trouble, Mordred thought. Gawain's white face should have told her that something was wrong. She had been good at detecting any problems in people's lives in the time she had spent at the castle. She looked at Agravaine, then to Morgause, then to Mordred, still calm faced. Under her gaze, Mordred suddenly wondered how he was going to explain it to her, it was a rather pointless and harmless offence after all.

"Won't you bow to us Moira?" Morgause asked cutting Mordred's thoughts short.

Moira replied "Do you want me to?" Mordred had to admire how brave she was, or she could just be foolish or stubborn. But then Mordred doubted that she was foolish, she had too much wit and sarcasm to be a fool.

"Yes or a curtsey." Morgause told her. Moira gave a slow nod of her head. Morgause was smiling now, although Mordred doubted it had anything to do with Moira following her wish. Morgause pointed at Agravaine and spoke again "You see my son, and how he has been hurt (Garet had to stifle a laugh at that), how do you think he got that injury Moira?"

"He got that when I punched him my lady." Morgause blinked, she probably expected her to try and deny it. Moira had also addressed her with respect which slightly surprised Mordred. She had never called him 'my lord' or anything except Mordred or idiot.

"Why did you hit my son Moira?" there was a threatening tone now. Moira opened her mouth but Morgause interrupted her "What makes you think you can just hit a son of Orkney Moira?"

Moira tried to speak again, "Because he-"

"He is my son Moira and your superior, he is a prince and you are a commoner." Morgause said. Mordred felt sorry for Moira, Morgause was insulting her and if Moira reacted, Morgause would only treat her worse. Moira remained silent this time so Morgause continued "You are not of nobility, you have no right to hit my son or anyone here. He and the Knights of the Round Table fight to protect people like you from being attacked and killed, and yet you not only hit him but continue to show blatant disregard towards the rest of them." Still Moira remained silent. "My other son, your high king has given you a place to stay and has allowed you to carry on with your strange ways, so what made you think you could hit his brother." Both Moira and Morgause turned their faces to him; Moira's impassive, Morgause's impatient. Mordred just stared back at them blankly, still deciding what to do. Morgause turned away from him, took a breath and said "I believe you should be reprimanded, maybe removed from this castle-"

This made Mordred's decision quicker, "No."

"What?" Morgause cried.

She knew that if Mordred said no, then she had little power to do anything. Even though she was queen mother, she could only decide punishment if the high king allowed her to. Which he wasn't going to do.

"What Moira did wasn't unprovoked, Agravaine admitted it, and while it was foolish and a bit extreme to fight him-"

"She didn't fight me, she just punched me." Agravaine mumbled.

"While it was foolish and extreme on her part," Mordred continued "What Agravaine said would cause anyone to lose their temper, no one enjoys being insulted, Agravaine, and be grateful she was just a woman." Moira raised an eyebrow at that but he carried on, "Had she been a man you probably would have faced far worse injuries."

Garet and another knight shared a grin, Agravaine didn't look convinced and neither did his mother. "It doesn't matter whether she was provoked, she has refused to give us the proper respect we deserve, and you are letting her get away with it!"

"I am not letting her get away with it! I'm sure she has enough sense not to repeat her mistakes, is that not right Moira?"

"Of course not." Moira said.

"There, you see." Mordred said to Morgause, feeling more relaxed.

"Which is why I am leaving." Moira finished.

"WHAT!" Mordred and the rest of the knights shouted.

"You can't leave." Garet cried, he obviously realised how childish he had sounded and he blushed. Morgause even looked surprised.

"Why are you leaving?" Mordred asked Moira.

"Oh, just felt I needed to get out some more, I'm a traveller by nature, and I wouldn't want to cause any more trouble." she said.

"Where are you planning on going?" Gawain asked.

"I'm not really sure I know yet, and even if I did, I'm not sure I would tell you." she replied. Morgause gave a loud 'hmph'.

"Will you come back?"

Moira smiled and turned her back to Mordred and Morgause "Does anyone want me to?"

Quite a few of them said "Yes."

Mordred heard her give a small laugh, and suddenly felt something like sorrow grow in his chest. He realised that he would miss her, only slightly though. Perhaps Morgause would come to realise how well Moira was liked once she was gone, and Morgause would see how much her sons liked her.

"When are you leaving?" Mordred asked her.

"As soon as possible, maybe tomorrow." Moira said over her shoulder.

"We will have a farewell feast in your honour, then Moira." Gawain let out a small cheer- he loved his food. Mordred felt Morgause's gaze on him but he ignored it, "And this time you should eat well at the feast tonight so you have a full stomach the next morning. You will need all the strength you can get." he said. If Moira ever came down to the great hall to eat with them, she would eat so little compared with everyone else, it was unnerving. Moira said it was because she just wanted to get back to her rooms as fast as possible, Morgause said it was because Moira was an ungrateful wretch. "Everyone can say their farewells and give her advice at the feast." he said to group.

She turned back around "I think I will." Moira paused then she asked "I ask that you allow me to take some food with me on my journey, as it has been pointed out, I have very little money." she quickly looked at Morgause, who looked back unabashed, then shifted her eyes back to him. "If I could take some bread with me then it would make my journey a bit easier."

Garet said what Mordred had been about to say "Anything you want or need, you can have."

Moira looked considerably flattered. "Thank you, I will only take a little."

Morgause stood, "You had better leave with plenty of supplies, you never know how long your journey will be." she said.

Mordred could detect something similar to a threat in that, and so he said to Moira "You will send word to us when you reach . . . wherever you're going." he hoped that Morgause would understand that it would be unwise to try and do something to her while she was out of his sight. Mordred prayed that Moira never earned such an intense hatred from his mother, which could lead to Morgause physically harming her. But as Morgause gave Moira a look of deep loathing, while the others told her which routes were safest and which were the quickest, Mordred could only hope to persuade his mother to leave her alone, not for his sake, but for the sake of Garet and Gawain. Garet especially, because he was fond of her as a brother to a sister. He was often mocked because he was the most naïve but Moira would indulge his childish ways and never ridiculed his simple habits or even his simple mind.

The knights were still babbling around Moira, it was actually quite funny watching them; it was as if they were all young again. Once again the only exceptions were Agravaine and Morgause. Mordred coughed loudly to get their attention. "That's enough talk now. Let Moira go pack her things."

"What things." Morgause said "She has few possessions, at least that way she won't have to carry as much."

"Anything she needs she can have." Garet said. He had missed the insult.

"Thank you Garet but I won't need very much, just food, clothes, maybe some parchment-"

"Parchment?" Agravaine said "What would you need that for?"

"I'll need something to write on if I'm going to write back to you, Mordred said-"

"Your high king said." Morgause interrupted.

"The high king said I should tell you when I've reached my destination. That and I want to record some of my travels so something to write on is needed." At their blank faces, Mordred remembered that most of them would never willingly write anything. They thought it was a waste of time. When they asked her who taught her to write, she told them it had been a priest.

When she was finished both Morgause and Gawain spoke "A priest taught you that!"

Moira nodded happily, either ignoring Morgause's glare or completely oblivious to it.

A new conversation broke out and it took another half hour for them to finish and Mordred to convince everyone to leave.

-0-

The feast that night hadn't been as great as when Lancelot had left for Brittany. It was pretty much the normal evening meal, except usually when Moira entered she was largely ignored, this time when she came in half the round table cheered. She beamed and took the seat next to Garet. They all started the feast, and Mordred noticed that in place of the stag that would usually be brought out on a special occasion, there was only a large plate of chicken meat. He and the others had gone out hunting two days ago and killed a decent sized stag- Morgause herself had seen to it that the meat had been kept perfect. Mordred suspected it was because Moira wasn't a well-known personage that it hadn't been brought to the table. He knew that Moira had gone down to the kitchens and told the cook not to overdo it because he had tried to talk to her afterwards and she had avoided him by saying she wanted to prepare her things. But he would have thought that the cook would have enough common decency to send the stag meat. It could only last a few days before it went rotten. Mordred turned to his right, where Morgause was sat, and he knew why. Morgause was coldly observing Moira, her plate of food untouched. It wouldn't be difficult for Morgause to ensure that Moira never received any special treatment.

None of the others had noticed the break of tradition. They were all too busy eating or talking, some of them doing both. Mordred piled some food onto his plate; there was no point complaining about it. Looking at Morgause's face, Mordred thought it might be better that Moira left. Perhaps while she was away, Morgause would be in a better mood. She would at least stop complaining and the annoying rumours.

Mordred began to eat, feeling a little more positive that at least he would get some peace of mind while she was gone.

-0-

As the sun poured through his chamber window, Mordred thought it would be best if he talked to Moira privately. He didn't need to give her any advice on which roads to take as all of the knights had given her advice, and as he had found out last night she really didn't want any more advice . . .

"Moira, I need to speak with you." he had said after the feast. Morgause had already gone to her chambers, and Gawain, Garet, and Agravaine were slowly dragging themselves towards their beds.

Moira faced him, she looked tired. "What is it?" she said.

"I think you should know that-"

"I know which road to take! I know how to avoid trouble! Don't you think I know which routes to take by now?" she hissed.

"That's not what I needed to tell you." Mordred said, holding his hands up in surrender, "But I think you need to be careful of who you make enemies of."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that not everyone here is tolerant of your ways and if you want to make your life easier, you should really conform to what everyone else does." When she looked at him blankly, Mordred grew frustrated. "Surely you know what I'm talking about."

"Of course I know what you're talking about. That's why I'm leaving." she replied.

"Good, then take my advice, if you feel you're in danger, send word straight away. Stay in company, tell someone where you are going and don't go out on your own at night."

"You know that's the one thing nobody else has realised this entire time and I have been too polite to point out. I don't have the money to keep sending you messages, that and where am I going to find anyone to take a message."

Mordred scowled and reached for the small pouch at his waist. He withdrew a few coins and handed them to her. She was surprised but she accepted them without saying anything. "You should be able to pay someone to take a message. People will do anything for more money."

She looked at the coins in her hand for a moment. "Fine, but thank you." and she walked away.

Now he wasn't sure Moira had understood what he had been trying to tell her, or even seriously consider his advice. She probably didn't think that Morgause would hate her enough to try and harm her. At that he shook his head to get rid of the thought, no matter how much Morgause disliked her, she couldn't possibly try and kill someone. And if Moira decided that she could live without his advice and tried to go her own way, then she would get what she deserved. Besides, she could take care of herself. Mordred changed his mind. He could wait to see her of with everyone else.

Hours later, outside the castle and surrounded by his half-brothers, he watched the doors open as Moira moved closer to the small opening made between them. Moira had said all her goodbyes to everyone except Morgause who had come out with Gawain, then turned back inside. Stephan was standing next to Garet and Accolon, Stephan was the most miserable looking of the entire crowd. Without Moira to be around, it would be very lonely for him. Fortunately Garet seemed to like him. When the doors had creaked their last, Moira passed through them. Once she was on the other side, she turned and gave them a wave. Stephan and Garet waved back and Moira disappeared from view. Everyone was still for a few seconds, eyes still fixed on the doors and then the crowd began to disperse. At last, it was only Mordred, Garet and Stephan who were still standing there. It was cold that morning, Mordred shivered and headed back inside. Moira was out of his hands now.

When Mordred reached the great hall, Morgause was standing next to his throne, facing into the fire place behind it.

"Mother." she turned back around, "Is everything alright?" he asked, very concerned. She looked slightly exhilarated, but somehow it seemed unhealthy.

"Has she gone?" she demanded.

"Yes." Mordred felt the worry that he had ignored earlier that morning start to come back. "Why? What have you done?"

"I haven't done anything, what did you think I would do?" her indignant tone reassured him partially. If she had arranged something, he would have been able to tell.

Mordred shrugged "I just knew that you didn't like her and people you don't like tend to get hurt."

She laughed "I wouldn't do anything to her now that she is gone, I'm just glad to have her out of my hair." she swept a couple of strands of it for emphasis.

"That is comforting to hear, if something happened to her, Garet would be very upset." he told her.

Morgause suddenly snapped at him "Of course he would be! He is a child in a man's body." She realised what she had just said to him and added in a sweeter tone "but then again that is his nature, hardly anyone can say a bad word about him, he no violent or cruel fool."

Mordred didn't want to anger her again so he decided to forget what she said "Yes, that is Garet's way." and he made to go to the practice yard, there he could keep his mind free of anything that had happened within the last day.

Morgause's next words stopped him in his tracks "Ah, Mordred my son, I sent a messenger last night to bring someone to me."

"Who?"

"Oh, just a friend, I thought it would be nice to see her again so I invited her to stay a while." she was wringing her hands and refused to look him in the eye.

"Who?" Mordred repeated.

"Ninianne."

Mordred's stomach did several flips. Ninianne was a woman of his age, and her mother had been one of Morgause's friends. She had been fostered by Morgause in Orkney; Ninianne was also a believer of the old religion like Morgause, so another similarity between them was her dislike of Christians. She believed that Christians were oppressive and were a remaining sign of Roman control over Briton. She, like her mother and Morgause, thought that Christianity was determined to make sure that the old ways were destroyed and that Christianity enslaved women. None of them had liked Guinevere because of her strong faith but Ninianne had been the far more discreet of the bunch. At least when no-one Christian was nearby. But that wasn't what made him feel almost nauseous. Ninianne had also been a previous lover and he had absolutely no doubt why Morgause had invited her here.

"Mordred, You're not angry are you?" Morgause asked him, "She is a family friend and I have already sent the invitation-"

"I'm not angry mother." Mordred said sharply "But next time you feel you need to bring someone to Camelot, ask me first." he left the hall before she could say anything else.

Women, Mordred mused to himself as he went to the practice yard, why did he have to saddled with such a bunch of high minded, flighty, irresponsible and difficult women?

Chapter seven: Ninianne

Mordred stamped the ground. The court yard where he was standing was getting slowly chilly. Summer was almost over and soon it would be harvesting season. The leaves were turning gold and red, and some of the ground was carpeted by leaves. Mordred liked the harvest season, it was proof that when you worked hard for something you could reap the rewards. Mordred had ridden out, when he could find the time, on some occasions it was just to watch the event. So far, the crops that had been harvested were plentiful. As high king Mordred's mind should have been completely focused on getting the harvests in. It wasn't though. It was full of different strands of thoughts, all of them making it harder to enjoy the feeling of festivity of collecting in one's work.

Moira hadn't sent a message for weeks after she left. During that time, Stephan and Garet had become withdrawn from the others and would always look to the great wooden doors with hope in their eyes, if there was a commotion from outside. Despite his feelings before she had left, Mordred wasn't bothered about Moira's safety as much as he had thought. Morgause had completely forgotten about Moira, and was back to being her normal happy self. Also all the rumours had stopped, making Mordred more grateful for Moira's absence. The one time she had sent a message, it had been sent by a peasant girl who had come for work in Camelot. She had been eager for the money Moira gave her (which had only been a couple of coins) and had raced her way there and told the door keeper she had a message for the high king. As a result of how urgent she sounded and how ragged she looked, people panicked and thought there had been an attack. So when Mordred opened the stained scrap of parchment and saw Moira's surprisingly tidy writing telling him she had safely reached her destination, Mordred wasn't sure whether he would laugh or be frustrated at all the fuss. The girl had been put to work in the kitchens, and Mordred made sure that Morgause didn't know about the letter- he didn't want to spoil her good mood. Then he had given the letter to Garet and Stephan in case it gave them any comfort. It didn't seem to have worked because now they were more eager for news of her.

However Moira and the problems she caused wasn't the most pressing thing on his mind right now. Ninianne would be arriving any day soon and the reply she had sent to Morgause stated that she would be bringing a large party of servants and her own personal guards. He thought that the whole idea was ridiculous but Morgause tried to reason with him.

He refrained from sighing with frustration. It wouldn't do any good now. Mordred peered at the sky. It was grey and cloudy; one dark grey cloud was threatening rain. He would have to go back inside, if he got wet, his feelings would only get worse. He would have to face the knights and their reports eventually. He walked back into the stone corridors, they were emptier than they usually did, mostly because some of the servants had gone out to help with the harvesting and others were staying further inside the castle where it was warmer. He would have talked with Moira if she had been here. She had always been out in the court yard or one of the gardens talking with someone. As Mordred walked along, his last conversation with Morgause came back into his head.

"It's only for protection Mordred, it's such a long journey from her home, you know that. A young woman like her needs all the protection she can get."

Mordred didn't want to argue with her so he kept his opinion, which was that Ninianne was trying to draw attention to her wealth, to himself. Ninianne had always loved to show off but she wasn't vain, not from Mordred's memory. She was very beautiful, with golden hair and deep green eyes, Mordred could remember. She also knew a lot of herb lore. He would never forget how much the other girls at Orkney begged her to make skin lotions and other such things. Mordred had said that she should have sold some of her ointments; both Morgause and Ninianne had been shocked.

"I can't go out selling them like a common trader!" she had protested to him when Morgause couldn't hear, "What would Morgause think of me if she saw me out in the market place behind a stall." Ninianne lived to please his mother, as did most people who lived in Orkney castle.

His mother kept saying that it would be nice for her to see them both again, and though a part of him looked forward to seeing a friend like Ninianne, he knew that Morgause hoped to achieve much more than just a simple visit. It made his blood run cold when he thought of his mother trying to push him into a marriage. Ninianne had been a good lover but the idea of Morgause choosing for him someone he would be stuck with for most of his live was causing him more worry than anything. Mordred didn't want a wife, he knew he would want heirs to the throne- heirs that he knew about however he couldn't stand marrying some weak, whiny and materially obsessed woman. Ninianne wasn't weak or whiny most of the time but if he married her, she would end up putting pressure to maximise the old religions influence. One of the things Morgause would definitely look for in a potential bride for Mordred was belief of the old ways, another would be dislike of Christianity.

Agravaine had been most unhelpful with the situation of Ninianne. He knew what had passed between Mordred and Ninianne and took every opportunity to remind him and point out that with her arrival would be the end of what he called 'freedom'. It was easy for Agravaine- he would never face a life stuck with someone he didn't want. Mordred had a duty, according to Morgause, to secure the future of Briton; one way to do that was to make sure there was a clear line of succession. Mordred knew his duty, he wanted to make sure that Briton's future was secure, he had realised what Moira had meant by 'past mistakes' and not repeating them but not even his memories of Ninianne made it more bearable. If he was going to marry, he wanted a true companion; someone who he could talk to about running a country, someone who would offer him useful advice, not a vain, pretty maid who didn't care or understand what happened to the people, someone . . . like Moira?

Mordred shook his head. The idea of having to deal with someone as high minded as Moira was horrible, and yet . . .maybe someone not too similar to Moira but a woman who could take care of herself and didn't try to use her position to influence him. That would be Mordred's perfect wife. Someone who would only bother him when he wanted her to.

"Mordred!"

He jumped. Stephan was almost skipping as he walked towards him from down the corridor. Mordred could just tell that whatever was making him that happy had something to do with Moira. Stephan gave a quick bow when he reached him. "Moira has sent us another letter!" he said excitedly, his eyes sparkling.

Mordred was unmoved by this information, however he didn't have the heart to tell Stephan that so he replied "Really! At least we know she is safe then." trying to sound enthusiastic.

He tried to push past Stephan but he just trailed after him, annoying Mordred with the details "This letter was bought to us by a man from Wales, he said that Moira had been staying at a small tavern when she had saved him from some bandits and . . .", and try as he might Mordred could not shake Stephan off until Stephan had told him every last thing he could about what the messenger had said, what Moira had written and what Stephan thought of it all. When Stephan had finished, Mordred convinced him to go and tell the others about this hoping it would keep Garet and Stephan away from him for a good time to come. Stephan eagerly nodded and Mordred, shaking his head, entered his personal chambers.

He pulled out the small wooden chair and propped his elbows on the desk. Mordred could hear the drizzle of the rain on the window, and for a second, he let his mind clear of the thoughts troubling him. Moira was not his responsibility, he told himself, and he would deal with Ninianne the same way he would treat anyone else. As for Morgause's plans, he would make sure that she knew that he was not going to be played with.

-0-

"The lady Ninianne is here! Quick, quick. Open the gates!"

"Come on, help me open them. They're stuck."

People were frantically moving to help open the gates which had become stuck in the mud. It had rained during the night and throughout the early morning, so now the gates were firmly lodged in the sludgy ground. Morgause, dressed in her finest, was shouting orders from the top of the steps for the knights to help pull the gates open. The men around them heaved and cursed, all of them were red faced and mud coated their boots Mordred had pointed out to her that most of the knights were already helping but all that did was cause Morgause to start yelling at the servants to start helping.

Ninianne's welcome to Camelot wouldn't be as great and joyous as anyone had hoped, Morgause especially. Mordred had seen her and some of her servant women praying for good weather as he had passed her by her chambers the previous evening. Mordred wondered what Ninianne was thinking as she waited on the other side of the wooden barrier for her big entrance to Camelot. If she was still as he remembered her, she would be silently fretting. Perhaps she would be fiddling with a piece of her golden hair like she used to do when they had been in Orkney.

There was a long squelching sound. The gates moved slowly open. A fair haired woman, in a deep rose coloured dress rode forward on her white mount. The time that Mordred and Ninianne spent apart must have made him forget just how pretty she was. Her golden hair like flowing sunshine, her deep green eyes that used to fix him to the spot when she looked at him. All her beauty seemed to hit him again as she dismounted and gave her horse to one of the stable boys to lead away. His stomach gave a small familiar jolt as she turned to him with her smile. Morgause went towards her and embraced her before Ninianne could even bow.

"Ninianne, how good it is to see you again. How was your journey, good I hope?" she asked as they walked up the steps arm in arm.

Ninianne paused by Mordred and pulled her arm free. She gave a deep curtsey, making Mordred feel significantly warmer in the gloomy weather. She stayed bowed when she said "My lord, I thank you for accepting me here." with a small note of tenderness.

Mordred smiled and told her to rise. Ninianne straightened up slowly, a small blush covering her cheeks. He gestured for her to go inside the open door. Ninianne and Morgause entered, each of them flashing smiles at the other.

Suddenly Mordred realised that for a few moments he had forgotten why Ninianne was here. His stomach gave another jolt, this one unpleasant. He heard a snicker. Mordred faced the knights, with defiance on his face. They were still standing there, watching him. Some of them were staring boldly at him. Agravaine was smirking with his arms crossed, almost triumphantly at Mordred's predicament. Mordred locked eyes with him, and when he knew that Agravaine was neither going to say anything or back down, Mordred followed them inside.

Over the next few days, it took Mordred time to get used to Ninianne always curtseying and calling him 'my lord' as she had never had to when they were younger. Mordred and Morgause kept telling her that she didn't have to address him as such, as they were long-time friends and were as good as family, but Ninianne would not be shaken.

"It is only proper that I address you as your rightful title." she had said to him.

However this had not stopped her from coming to speak with him, she would sometimes seek him out and ask him to walk with her in the gardens. Mordred welcomed the opportunity to talk with her, he could hear how things were in his childhood home or what the tribes thought of him up in the north and Ninianne was always eager to tell him. There was just one thing that prevented him from truly enjoying her stay in Camelot- he was expected to marry her.

The thought would come back to haunt him whenever he was left alone. The hopeful looks Ninianne would often give him would fill his head as he lay down to sleep, and the sniggers of Agravaine and Gawain would seem extra loud when Mordred tried to keep his mind off the subject. Ninianne had never approached or hinted at the subject but she had enough sense to know why she had been invited here. Knowing Morgause, Mordred knew she wouldn't say anything directly to Ninianne because she already knew what she was meant for. It was a conspiracy against him, he thought. Two women determined to tie him down. At that point, he thought that the worst that could happen was Morgause telling him to marry her.

He was wrong. One sunny afternoon Mordred and Ninianne had been walking through the gardens as usual when they heard a soft crying. It was a woman sat on one of the stone benches sobbing into a rag. Ninianne asked her what was wrong and the woman shot up and offered them both clumsy curtseys without answering her question. So Ninianne asked her again.

"I am to be sent away, my lord and lady, out of work. My services are no longer needed I am told." she replied miserably.

"Why were you sent away?" Mordred asked her, "There has to be a reason as to why you were told to leave."

The woman sniffled, "I don't know why I was sent away my lord, I was just told to pack my things and go."

"By who?" Ninianne and Mordred said at the same time.

The woman fidgeted with the rag in her hands mumbling something that sounded like "Not my place to say." to the ground.

"Who?" Mordred asked forcedly. Whoever it was clearly didn't know that as high king, only Mordred was allowed to appoint and dismiss the castle servants.

She kept twisting the fabric and was clearly struggling on how to answer, then Ninianne tapped her foot loudly and the woman made her reply. "It was the lady Morgause, my lord and lady."

Mordred didn't say anything; he didn't bother to ask her why Morgause had sent her away. It was obvious why- this woman was most likely a Christian. Morgause had been asking him if she could bring in her own servants ever since she had settled in, a good number of her old servants and maids she had brought with her from Orkney had managed to replace the old staff that had been in Camelot with his permission, but this was against protocol. She had to ask him before she turned away servants, not just throw them out of the castle when she wanted.

"You will stay." he told the woman.

Both Ninianne and the servant looked at him surprised. "W-what?" the woman said, completely forgetting courtesy.

"I said you will stay, Morgause doesn't have the power to remove the staff without my permission."

The servant beamed at him and then gave him another deep curtsey "Thank you my lord, thank you, thank you-"

"You needn't thank me," he pointed to the castle walls "You should go back inside and tell her that Mordred says you can stay."

"Yes my lord, thank you my lord." and she hurried back inside.

Morgause wouldn't be happy at seeing her former servant return, especially with the message she was bringing. She would have to handle it though, Mordred was head of this castle not Morgause and he was getting sick of her attempts to replace the entire staff. He knew that she was only getting rid of them because they were Christian and she wanted to expand the influence of the old religion, starting with Camelot. Although Mordred wanted to bring back the old religion, there was no practical way of completely destroying the Christian power, unless he wanted to make it punishable by death. That would be a violation of his promise as high king on his coronation and it would plunge the country back into civil war.

"Are you sure that was wise?" Ninianne asked when she faced him.

"Yes, there was no real reason for her to be turned away and my mother should have at least told me she planned on sending her away."

"She would have told you this evening I'm sure." Ninianne said defensively.

"It doesn't matter, there is no good reason for her to dismiss all the servants, in fact I'm getting tired of it, dismissing them and then bringing in new ones. There's just no good reason for it." Mordred finished.

"Yes there is! Your mother should be allowed to choose her own servants and most of the servants here are all Christians. Your mother grew up and lived surrounded by followers of the old religion. It is only fair that she have some of that comfort brought here!" Ninianne protested.

Mordred gave her a bored look. He knew exactly what she meant and what Morgause wanted. It had been the reason his mother had told him to take the throne. Mordred would just have to ignore Ninianne for now, he didn't want to hear another sermon on the superiority of the old religion. He started to walk back inside and gestured for Ninianne to do the same.

Ninianne apparently hadn't finished though and stayed still "You know your mother has been unfairly treated by these Christians in the past, and you know they will never fully accept you as high king. They all think you're both abominations in the eyes of their church. Only the followers of the old religion will accept you and of course," she pointed to where the servant had gone, "your mother knows this which is why she is bringing in followers of the old religion to replace any servants who can't pledge their full loyalty to you."

She looked at him, expecting some great revelation from him, maybe to be surprised or grateful for what his mother was doing. Instead he replied "That was hardly discreet Ninianne." in an unimpressed tone.

Ninianne frowned at him "We can't afford to be discreet now." she looked around the garden to see if there was anyone around and took a step closer to him. "We don't have to be discreet now Mordred. You are the high king." she stepped closer again so he could see every little detail of her face, he could see how green her eyes were, how full and pink her lips were, "You can do whatever you want." she whispered as she moved her face towards his. . .

"Am I interrupting something?"

Mordred and Ninianne jumped a foot apart. Moira was standing there, looking perfectly innocent were it not for the fact that there was dirt on her shawl and hands. Her timing couldn't be worse.

"Moira-" Mordred started but Ninianne cut him short with a loud gasp.

"Moira? Surely it can't be." Ninianne looked horrified, Moira looked perfectly calm, as if people looking at her with terror on their faces was a regular occurrence for her.

"Ninianne, it's been a long time." Moira said "How have you been?"

"Wait? Do you two know each other?" Mordred asked, completely perplexed. He couldn't imagine any circumstance that would lead these two to know each other.

Ninianne didn't answer him so Moira told him "We spent some years as children together, being taught the ways of the old religion before I left."

"But I thought you were a Christian and you said that you were taught by a priest-"

"A priest!" Ninianne exclaimed.

"After I left, Ninianne." Moira said "And yes, I am a Christian which is why I left."

"Oh."

"You ran away Moira." Ninianne snapped at her.

Moira just shrugged and gave them both a funny look "Any way I will leave you both to . . . whatever it was you were discussing."

"Actually we had just finished and were about to go back inside." Mordred said quickly, all of a sudden he didn't feel like being alone with Ninianne and it wasn't just because of the angry expression on her face.

"Really? Well then we can go surprise Morgause with my arrival together, what about you Ninianne, do you want to come?" Moira asked gleefully.

"No thank you." Ninianne said stiffly, she curtsied to Mordred "My lord." and she walked away from them as fast as possible.

"She doesn't seem too happy to see me does she?"

"I don't think it was just you Moira, she wasn't too happy with me for a moment either." Mordred replied.

Moira didn't believe him. "Funny, she looked very happy when I came out here." she said.

Mordred thought it would be a good idea not to reply and give anything away so he walked past her, back inside and asked her where she had been.

"Here, there and everywhere. How is Stephan by the way? I didn't see him as I came in."

"Stephan is fine. He and Garet were always pestering me for any clue or news on your whereabouts."

"Oh did they? I'm so sorry, I thought those few messages would be enough to keep them satisfied. I hope they didn't annoy you too much"

Mordred laughed and told her how often they had come to him for information. After the first dozen times they had come to see him, he had decided to keep count. "They visited me at least . . ." Mordred tapped his chin, looking thoughtful "twenty seven times while you were gone, all of the visits had something to do with you and where you had gone."

"You're lying," Moira said "surely not that often. I mean- I wouldn't have thought that Stephan would be that desperate, and why would Garet be concerned anyway?"

"Because Garet likes you Moira, wasn't that obvious?"

She shook her head. "He and Stephan have become friends and they missed you, I had told you to write more often, and that money I gave you should have been enough to find someone to-"

"There are more important things to buy than human services. Where is Stephan now?" Moira said while she looked around the corridor as if hoping that Stephan would step out from the shadows.

"I'm not sure, wherever Garet is most likely." He replied as he pushed a door open, he let Moira go in first, thinking that if anyone saw her, the word of Moira's return would spread quicker. They were heading in the direction of the great hall, which would hopefully have Garet or one of the Orkney brothers there, rather than going straight to Morgause. Ninianne would have already gone and told her, there was no need to make her day (or Mordred's) worse. Then thinking of Stephan made Mordred remember her last letter, "In your last letter, Stephan said something about you saving someone from bandits."

Moira paused in front of him, then turned around. "Oh yes, I was staying at a little tavern and the usual drunken brawl started up, they wanted whatever money he had so I just grabbed the man they were about beat senseless and rob, and pulled him behind me. They weren't as willing to fight once they saw this though." and she pulled her shawl back to reveal her sword, "The man was so grateful he agreed to take the message, I reckon the coins I gave him also helped."

"And that girl you sent in before, where did you find her?" Mordred asked.

"At another tavern, she was supposed to be just a tavern girl but the owner . . .had other uses for her which neither me or her particularly liked so I told her to take me a message, gave her some money and told her to come here."

"That was noble of you." Mordred remarked.

"No, it was what anyone would have or should have done." she replied.

Mordred didn't feel like telling her his own half-brother wouldn't even do that, even if he was, or had been a knight of the round table. The old values that Arthur had cherished didn't hold much sway over Agravaine, not unless he got some reward other than Arthur congratulating him. Mordred wasn't even sure he would have done the same, maybe if the man's treatment of her had been too cruel, then he might have acted. As for saving a man from thieves, well, if it had been him they were about to rob, he would have killed them there and then. So how was it that a peasant woman had a better sense of justice than some of the knights, and had the conviction to do something about it? If she had been a man of noble birth, she would have made an excellent knight, not that Mordred was going to tell her he thought that.

"Should we go to the great hall Mordred?" Moira asked.

"Y-yes yes, there'll be some food left out if Gawain has something to say about it, which he always does, so you can regain your strength and then we can find Stephan." he said cheerfully. He stepped up beside her "What do you think?"

Moira looked concerned or surprised, maybe both at Mordred's unnaturally cheery tone but she quickly replied "Alright, it sounds fine to me." she gave a sweep of her hair and continued down the corridor. Mordred followed her, and neither of them understood why he was glad she had returned.

Chapter eight: The Facts.

Mordred had been right. Ninianne had gone straight to Morgause who, of course, was utterly furious.

"What is she doing here?" she had shrieked in the great hall when she saw her.

Everyone who had come to see Moira back turned their heads to her. Ninianne was a few feet behind Morgause, hiding in the door way, both guilty and shocked at Morgause's reaction. Mordred and Moira were probably the only ones in the hall who were not surprised, Moira had simply given her a small bow and then turned back to the conversation she was having with Stephan and Garet. Mordred could see that it only served to make Morgause even angrier so when she opened her mouth, he had to intervene.

"Mother, Moira has returned as she said she would, leave her be." Mordred told her. Morgause just gave Moira a look of loathing and strode back out of the hall. Mordred clenched and un-clenched his fists slowly. He was getting sick of this, Moira had only just got back and he could already tell that he would have to spend most of his spare time ensuring that Morgause didn't do something to Moira. Well, at least now that she knew how much Morgause hated her, she would try to avoid her, maybe be even more 'respectful' or whatever it was that Morgause wanted her to do. Besides, if Morgause had Ninianne to keep her company, maybe she wouldn't bother him so much. Mordred mentally kicked himself, as if, Morgause knew that if she was going to get rid of Moira, Mordred would have to agree and she wouldn't leave him alone until he did. But no matter how much she pushed, he was not getting rid of Moira unless Moira did something to him, which he knew she wouldn't. Moira was too clever for that.

Even if Morgause did manage to persuade Moira to go, judging from the look on Garet's face, Moira would still be well looked after outside of Camelot.

"Moira?" came a small voice, Mordred looked over his shoulder. Ninianne had come back and was clearly nervous, "Can I speak with you?" she asked.

Moira replied "Not now Ninianne, I think we can talk later." in a sympathising tone.

Mordred expected Ninianne to feel insulted, he expected the others to ask how Ninianne and Moira knew each other, instead Ninianne only nodded and Moira faced the knights again, and the only questions she faced there were about her journey. Everyone in the hall seemed to have forgotten he was there, and while he was used to receiving the display of attention that usually came when he entered a room, this time he was content to simply leave things be for now. There were a pile of letters and statements on his table in his personal chambers that he could deal with, now would be a good time to get rid of them. Mordred quietly left the hall, thinking nobody noticed him leave.

An hour later, hunched over the table, the sunlight illuminating just how many pieces of parchment Mordred had to go through, he could still see the look of horror on Ninianne's face whenever his mind found a free moment. Her accusation of Moira running away also stuck in his mind, what had it been that Moira had run away from? And why was Ninianne taking something Moira did as a child so seriously. It bothered him no end, and Mordred, more than once, had to stop himself from getting up and demanding Moira tell him how she had met Ninianne as well as what she had left behind. He dipped the quill, trying to focus on the report in front of him, a boring note of a robbery of some pigs. Hardly interesting, it had been dealt with so quickly that the only people who knew about it, other than himself, were the victims and the accused. All of them had been punished by being thrown in prison so why he had to sign a report about it was beyond Mordred's understanding. Even though Mordred had spent a few years in Arthur's court, he couldn't remember Arthur ever having to stay shut in and have rolls and rolls of parchment heaped in front of him. Then again, Mordred hadn't spent much time talking with his father about the running of a kingdom. Mordred had preferred to be outside, hunting with his half-brothers or out in the practice yard. He could imagine Moira's reply to that if he ever said it out loud.

"You should have thought about that before you decided to be king. . . it's too late now, you're the high king, you are just going to live with it "

A drop of ink blotched onto the parchment so before it could get any more ink stained, Mordred scribbled his signature onto it. Arthur had had scribes to deal with this, Mordred had seen them bringing him letters and documents for him to sign and put his seal on. That's what he needed, when he got out of this he would find someone to do it and he would make sure that it was someone of his choosing. If his mother found out, she'd try and bring in some friend of her's son, he didn't need them to be particularly special, just so long as they could at least read then he would be fine. Maybe Anna, Mark's wife would let one of her children become at least a messenger. Mark had never returned and Mordred knew without even having to ask Moira, that Mark was dead. His wife knew it too and if she had asked about him she had never given any sign of deep mourning, at least when Mordred had seen her.

Someone knocked on the door. A loud rapping sound- it wouldn't be Ninianne, she was too quiet and polite to knock that loudly on the door.

"Come in." Mordred said. Moira stepped into the room, her face impassive.

"Enjoying yourself?" she asked as she gestured towards the table.

"No, but why are you here?" he replied, he wanted to get this over and done with.

"I thought you might be wondering how I know Ninianne and I thought it would be best if I told you first."

Mordred sat straighter, only just noticing the pain in his back. "Tell me then."

Without breaking eye contact, Moira took a deep breath and said "We grew up together in her mother's . . . school, I suppose you would call it. I never wanted to be there, I had only been brought there by someone who wished me well but put his trust in the wrong people." she paused to see his reaction but Mordred kept his face blank,

"Most of girls who went there thought I was an ill behaved child, which I was. I didn't like them, I didn't like being there and I was always trying to run away and one time when I was nearing my twelfth year, I was successful."

Mordred realized that she had finished speaking. He noticed that throughout her tale, she hadn't sounded ashamed or anything like it, but her eyes had taken on that faraway look even though they were still pointed at him. There was an almost sad glimmer there . . .

Moira blinked and snapped "What are you looking at?" Mordred jumped. He had been leaning to get a closer look at her without even realizing it.

"Nothing, it's just that you don't seem at all ashamed or frightened-"

"Frightened! I have nothing to be frightened of."

"I'm sorry, I didn't say you had anything to be scared of. I just said that you didn't seem to be scared." Mordred said with his hands held up in surrender.

Moira looked towards the window "Good, now that's of my chest I don't have to worry."

"Worry about what?" Mordred asked instinctively.

"Ninianne exaggerating the details of my time there and making everybody believe that I am an even more ungrateful wretch than your mother thinks." she replied in one breath.

Mordred made up his mind to ask her something while she still felt like telling him anything about herself. "Moira, where is your family?"

What she told him next would haunt him for years to come. "They're dead. They were killed when I was a child."

Orphans were common among peasants, with little protection from raiders or Saxons, poor families were often the most to feel the brunt of it. But Mordred had never met anyone who had lost both parents. Occasionally a soldier or one of the nobility would die in battle or of ill health but there had always been the security of wealth and protection of other family members to protect the young and widowed. Moira had had none of those things to protect her, it seemed to Mordred. Maybe there was some link between the loss of her parents and how she had ended up with Ninianne at her home but . . . the way she had looked at Ninianne and how Ninianne had regarded her, it didn't seem possible that she had been fostered by another family member or friend.

"I'm sorry for you." was all he could think of saying knowing that it almost sounded unsympathetic.

"Don't be, you didn't kill them." Moira faced him again, the almost sad look in her eyes gone. "Now then, is there anything else you want to know about me?"

There were hundreds of things he wanted to know about her now that she had highlighted how little he knew about her but he only said "No, and if that's all you want, you can go." and he pointed towards the door.

After Moira had silently slid out the door, Mordred made a promise to himself that he would make sure Moira had somewhere to stay when outside of Camelot. If Moira couldn't rely on Morgause's kindness, he would make sure she knew that she could rely on his- and Garet would play an important part in his plans.

**-0-**

Once he had finished sorting all the reports and letters, a task which had taken him into midday, he went to find Garet at an easy pace. After Agravaine told him that Garet was with Morgause in one of her chambers, Mordred started to walk a little faster. If his plan was going to work, he needed Garet's sympathy and if Morgause was alone with him . . . for all he knew she could be persuading him to turn against her. He reached the door and waited outside, hoping to overhear any of the conversation. So far all he could hear was a muffled conversation; one voice was distinctly louder than the other but through the thick wooden door, it was impossible to tell who was whose. Mordred heard footsteps coming towards the door and moved away.

Garet came out, a small frown creasing his forehead. That was odd, what could Morgause have possibly said to make him look so angry. It wasn't like Garet to look angry at anything, all the family agreed that he was almost the child of the group, it wasn't in Garet's nature to be cross at anyone- certainly not his mother. In his eyes, none of his family could do wrong.

"Mordred, who are you looking for?" Garet asked, the frown replaced by a look of confusion.

"You Garet, come with me for a moment, I need to speak with you." Mordred said quietly, he didn't want Morgause to come out and start lecturing about the flaws of Moira. He headed down the corridor, hoping that Garet would follow him quickly- at first Garet just stood outside the door, still confused. Just as Mordred was about to gesture for him to move, Garet took several long strides and reached his side.

"Is it about Moira?"

Mordred nodded and they walked in silence until they were in another corridor.

"Mother doesn't like Moira Mordred. I think she wants to get rid of her." Garet said dully, as if Mordred didn't already know that. Mordred nearly scoffed, had it really taken that long for Garet to figure that out?

"I know that, which is why I need you to find somewhere for her to stay outside of Camelot." Mordred hissed.

"Where can I take her? I can't take her to Orkney, mother would be furious."

Still worried what mother thinks? Mordred thought bitterly. Then again he was high king and even he had to take steps to please his mother. He cast his mind around for anything that would be useful- they couldn't take Moira to Orkney so where could they keep her? It would have to be in the home of someone who liked her, that much was clear but finding someone other than Garet to willingly take her wouldn't be easy. Agravaine wouldn't do it and Mordred was sure that Moira wouldn't want to be stuck with Agravaine for any period of time. Gawain could be able to do it, he had a wife- maybe she could live with his wife!

"Mordred?"

"What?" Mordred snapped.

"Mother said that it would be a good idea if a husband was found for Moira." Mordred's mind went blank with shock. Garet's face was childlike as he said "I think she wanted me to marry her."

Mordred completely forgot discretion. "WHAT!"

Garet jumped a foot in the air, "I- I, she said that it was time I found a wife" he stuttered, "and then she started saying that Moira needed someone to keep her under control, someone like a husband a-and then I realised what she meant so I told her that I could never marry Moira. I think of her as a sister and then she went on to say that it was only a small ceremony and I only had to be at the wedding and all I had to do was keep her under control . . ."

"How could she think of marrying her off to anyone- you especially. Not that there's anything wrong with you Garet, but Moira isn't an ideal wife for anyone." Mordred added when he saw a glimmer of hurt in Garet's face, "Besides nobody, not even Agravaine could try to control her. She's far too . . . stubborn to make anyone a good wife."

Garet bobbed his head up and down. Mordred certainly hadn't expected Morgause to suggest that Garet marry Moira, she had spent so much time trying to get rid of her that it just seemed too unlike Morgause to do that. But then Mordred remembered something his mother had told him shortly before he had left for Camelot . . . it is better to have your enemy where you can see them rather than have them free and out of sight. Was that her way of thinking now? If that was the case, then Moira had to go even sooner than Mordred had wanted- wanted? He didn't want Moira to get married? No, he was just more concerned about her reaction if she found out. It was nothing to do with the prospect of her marrying someone else, the very idea- it was laughable. He couldn't imagine Moira willingly having her hands bound in marriage, her hair decorated with flowers, a faceless man taking her hands into his and then both of them signing the marriage contract- he couldn't. He didn't want to. The turning of his stomach was all to do with the fact that Morgause had suggested Garet- she was never through planning the next step in her son's life. First she was hoping for Mordred and Ninianne and now she was trying to saddle Garet with Moira. Or was that Moira with Garet?

"Perhaps we could give her the means to find herself a decent home," Garet suggested "Financially speaking."

To Mordred, it seemed like the first good idea Garet had ever come up with in his life, but how were they going to make sure Moira got the money without Morgause finding out? Mordred couldn't just give Moira the money (well, he could) but it would appear as favouritism, and Mordred had no intention of starting up another rumour. Morgause's temper would only get worse. There was one person who could do it though. "Garet, I need you to do it." Mordred said, giving him the most fixing look he could muster.

Garet, fortunately, didn't look surprised "I will, but where can she live? And how are you going to explain to her that she has to leave without causing her to panic?"

Mordred highly doubted Moira would ever panic so he just ignored Garet's comment and said. "She can stay in Londonium, she told me she had a friend there, perhaps you can find her a house there."

A couple of minutes later, they had their 'plan' complete. Now all that was left was to do it, and in Mordred's case, hope that Garet didn't have second thoughts about lying. Garet had already gone to Londonium, telling almost everyone he saw that he was only going hunting. Everyone except Morgause who Garet hadn't seen since he last spoke with her, which was a good thing because if Morgause asked Garet where he was going in such a hurry, Mordred didn't think Garet would be able to keep his mouth shut. Mordred was presently trying to find Moira, who somehow had managed to completely disappear from the castle halls. After half an hour of looking and asking any of the servants who he passed if they had seen her, he managed to find her in the last place he would have expected. Inside Ninianne's room. As he approached, he knew from the urgent tone Ninianne was using, that this was what she had wanted to talk to Moira about.

"…should have never left, Moira."

"I never had any reason to stay, and you know damn well that that night I had every reason to leave." Moira's voice sounded strained, as if she was keeping from shouting.

"It was unintentional-"

"Unintentional! How could leaving me there be unintentional? It was perfectly planned. You know it, everyone knew it. Everyone except me!" Moira nearly shouted.

Deciding it was best to stop the argument before it got any worse; Mordred knocked on the door and heard Ninianne gasp. Moira yanked the door open and for a moment there was a look on her face that reminded Mordred of a wolf he had once hunted. He had found its den and when the wolf looked him straight in the eye, he had seen the angry, outraged gleam in its eyes. That was what he could see on Moira's face now.

"What do you want now Mordred?" she snapped.

"To talk with you . . . now." She stepped out of the door way, she could tell that there was something wrong, Mordred knew that. The anger on her face had been completely removed to make a blank mask. "We need to talk somewhere private." He said as they walked.

"My room is nearby, we can go there." Once they reached her room, Mordred told her everything that Garet had said to him. She had laughed when he told her about Morgause suggesting her marriage to Garet, "I couldn't marry Garet or any man like him, I'd drive him insane." she had said- but the laughter didn't sound at all happy.

"Which is why you need to find that friend of yours and tell them you are returning to Londonium." Moira didn't say anything so Mordred added "Garet has gone to find somewhere you can stay- he's the one who is going to give you the money to buy your new home."

"It won't be a home if I'm buying it just to escape from your mother, is it?" she sighed,

"Besides, I haven't had a home since my parents were murdered."

Mordred saw the glazed look come back on her face and fought the temptation to comfort her or say something that could make the whole situation less daunting, but there was nothing he could think of other than "I really am sorry about all this."

Moira waved it off. "It's nothing that can be helped, people are as people are." she said.

"Will you be able to contact this friend of yours? Maybe they can help you and if they refuse-"

"Which they won't."

"I can give them a gentle push in the right direction." Mordred finished.

"This is all very kind of you, but I can't help but wonder why though."

"Because I owe you my life as you have pointed out, and well . . ." Mordred couldn't think of what to say next; that he didn't want to see her married to Garet, he didn't want to see her get hurt by Morgause.

"Yes?" Moira said stepping towards him.

"Well . . ."

"Yes?" she repeated, her eyes getting bigger as she got closer.

Mordred sighed in defeat, he might as well be honest, she would probably know he was lying if he said anything else, "Because you are as good as a friend and I can't say I enjoy the idea of you marrying anyone, even if it's Garet." he told her.

"Oh, I'm your friend now?"

Mordred didn't have time for any witty comments. "Yes, now just try and find this friend of yours and tell them you'll be coming there soon. Garet's already gone to find you a house so if I was you, I'd have your belongings packed within the next few days."

"I've only just got back."

Mordred's shoulders slumped. It was true, and Mordred hated to have to make her leave again. Yet if she didn't go, Morgause would never give either of them a moments peace. "I know but if you don't Morgause will never leave you alone, or me."

"She is a determined woman, isn't she." Moira observed.

Mordred couldn't help but agree, "You have no idea. I've lived with her all my life."

"How long can I stay here for? I'm not just going to leave again, I can't!"

"You should have a few days to get everything ready, if you can find some way of contacting your friend-"

"My friend can't help me with this!" Moira exclaimed, "I should have stayed away! I should have known that it would be a foolish thing to do, to stay here." she started to pace the room, "I knew it was a bad idea, I should have listened to reason . . . should have never come here . . ."

Mordred was caught between laughing at the small curses she was muttering under her breath, or to tell her that if she thought she had problems, she should try living with Morgause or Garet for a year. "There's no point regretting what you can't change." she stopped her pacing, "I am sorry that you have to do this but what would you rather have? Hmm? Go away for a while and allow Garet to buy you a house? Or stay here and have my mother make your life a misery- maybe even throw you out."

Seeing the glare he was receiving, Mordred thought that Moira would say something biting back, like shouldn't he be able to control his own castle, which he would have said had it been someone else in his position. Instead Moira gave him a small smile and said "You do have your rare moments of wisdom." Before Mordred could even understand what she had said, she went on "I will go and prepare Stephan for the journey, from what he told me it doesn't sound like everyone is welcome at Camelot and he might as well come with me." Unable to explain the feeling of discomfort at thinking of Moira alone with Stephan, far out of his sight, Mordred went and opened the door, then made to leave. "At times I wonder…" she said as he left, "How it is possible for a man who murdered his father to be so concerned for a peasant woman." Thinking about it, Mordred couldn't help but wonder too.

**-0-**

Garet had found somewhere for her to stay. However, instead of coming to Mordred and informing him, he had gone right away to Moira. So naturally when Moira came and told Mordred about the apartment he had found in the castle at Londonium, Mordred was furious. "I told you to find her a home, not some job for her in a castle's kitchens!" It seemed that Garet had thought it best that Moira stay as a servant in one of the nobles' estate. Moira hadn't complained but had simply said that no matter what Stephan was coming with her. Throughout all of it, a horrible sick feeling had settled in Mordred's stomach since Moira had agreed to leave and it hadn't left. What was worse was that Ninianne was determined to spend every moment possible with him and Morgause had somehow found out that Moira was leaving- and that Garet had helped her find a place to stay. The fact that Moira was leaving was completely irrelevant to her in her anger and had told Garet, once no-one else was around, that if he wanted to look after her, he should marry her. Garet had only shuffled his feet and mumbled something about thinking of her as a sister before Gawain had stepped in and said that asking Garet to marry her was ridiculous. It took Morgause days to calm down and by the time she did, it was only because Moira was leaving. Mordred had had to tell the owner of the castle, who just happened to be a friend of Garet's called Lucas; that Moira was to stay as an honoured guest- not a servant. Fortunately for Mordred and Moira he had agreed, and now Mordred waited in the great hall for Moira and Stephan to say their last goodbyes.

It was early in the morning, just past dawn so Mordred was the only one there when they arrived. Moira had been whispering something to a worried Stephan but she stopped once she saw Mordred, "I thought everyone was still sleeping." she said flatly, "I thought we agreed that it was best that we leave with no interruption."

"We did. I just wanted to . . . make sure everything was alright."

"Oh." For a minute, no-one spoke, when Stephan loudly yawned, Moira shook herself and said "We had best be going before someone falls asleep on me."

Stephan gave them both an annoyed expression, "It's far too early to be going to Londonium, we could have waited a little longer before we left." he complained.

"I know but I didn't want to spend too much time here anyway. The sooner the better." Moira said to Mordred.

Later as he watched Moira and Stephan leave on horseback, each with a little bag of money that Mordred had given them, Mordred felt he disagreed with what Moira had said. The sooner the better, he couldn't quite agree completely. Yes it was better that she was going now, so Morgause would stop pestering him and before she did something drastic, two nights ago he had caught her down in the kitchens giving one of the servants specific orders that she had refused to tell him about afterwards. No-one had become mysteriously ill but it had only made Mordred more nervous. Yet now, even with his doubts of his mother's intentions for Moira, Mordred couldn't help the feeling of misery at watching her retreating back. He would see her again, he hoped, but when? And how?

Chapter nine: The beginning

Mordred had hoped that with Moira safe and far out of Morgause's reach, that he would be able to stop thinking about her. However the distance between them now only kept him up at night- and much to his displeasure, he found that whenever a door opened, he half hoped it would be Moira returned. The only news he had heard of Moira and Stephan had been from a visit by Garet to the castle they were staying at, he had confirmed they were safe and living in relative comfort but that was it. Garet seemed to have completely forgotten the whole incident, and was acting as if nothing at all had gone wrong- even when everyone was asking him why Moira had left so suddenly. At times Garet's complete lack of tact was both a blessing and a curse for Mordred; a blessing because they would only ask him about it, and a curse because it felt like Mordred was the only one who cared or even remembered why Moira had left.

Ninianne thankfully, hadn't asked too many questions, but one question she did ask him stuck out vividly in the days that passed after Moira left, "Do you think she left because of me?"

Mordred had told her no, and for now it seemed like she believed him. Morgause, on the other hand was torn between delight that Moira had gone and anger that she had gone to find comfort somewhere else. However, as each day passed, (fourteen now to be exact, Mordred unwillingly kept count.) she mentioned her less and less, and Mordred couldn't help but notice that as time passed, fewer people even asked about her. The days turned into weeks, and for Mordred each week without hearing anything about Moira, seemed to last a year. Fewer people were asking about Moira 'til at last it was like Moira had come to Camelot years ago and that Mordred was the only one who even wanted to remember.

Months passed, and winter descended on Camelot. Mordred had spent much of his time ensuring that everyone was well fed and that the castle itself had a steady supply of food. Everything was perfect, they had had a good harvest and as Agravaine kept saying they could afford a feast every night. Morgause had attributed it to the gods favour on Mordred's behalf, yet although he enjoyed the praise, he still felt it would have been better if Moira had been there to join in. If he could just hear from her or see her somewhere, then maybe he would be able to get some sleep at night, knowing what had happened to her- one thing Mordred hated was not knowing what had happened to those he knew, and with Moira he had to admit that he thought of her as a friend. Finally after one particularly dreary week, Ninianne provided him with a solution.

"My lord Mordred your mother requests we visit Londonium." she had asked him meekly, dressed in her finest. Ninianne had taken to choosing expensive fabrics for dresses and wealthy jewellery while Morgause had taken to buying them for her. He instantly agreed and when Ninianne told him that his mother requested that he come with them, Mordred had had to fight back a shout of triumph. He could find Moira, or try and find out anything that had happened to her, while Morgause and Ninianne were busy visiting. Once Ninianne had gone Mordred silently prayed that Moira had stayed at the castle- if she hadn't, he would never get a moments peace.

**-0-**

The trip to Londonium itself hadn't gone as fast as he had wanted to but once they had reached the small but lavish castle where they were staying, time seemed to take huge steps. One moment they were being graciously welcomed by the owner Lucas (something that made Mordred much more optimistic) then they were shown their rooms, next came the feast and now it was morning with Ninianne and Morgause already preparing to leave. He had kept his eyes open for a glimpse of Moira but he hadn't seen her so far, and Mordred hadn't dared to ask with Morgause nearby. Once both of them had left, Mordred gave the room one last look hoping for any sign of her, he hadn't even seen Stephan around the castle. He would have to find Lucas then and ask him. Mordred sighed in frustration and started to walk through the halls, trying to find him.

As he was getting nearer Lucas' personal chambers, he heard something that made him stop in his tracks. "I am not! I will not and you can't make me!"

Moira. Not only that, but Moira sounded angry- very angry. Mordred wasn't sure what possessed him but one moment he was outside the door and the next, he had wrenched it open to find Moira and Lucas glaring at each other over a table. Both of them faced him, but only Lucas looked shocked and offered as small bow. Moira however looked pleased. "Mordred! I had heard you were here but _someone,_" she gave Lucas an accusing glare, "told me that it would be best if I stayed in my room. Where I belong." she spat.

Mordred surveyed Lucas, his temper rapidly rising "What exactly does she mean by that?"

Lucas stood nervously "I don't know my lord." he replied, his eyes nervously flitting between Moira and Mordred. Moira scoffed and it was only then that Mordred noticed what she was wearing, a simple brown dress with a belt of well fashioned bronze. He had never seen her wear anything that was remotely feminine in all the time she had been at Camelot, perhaps she had bought it while she was here. Though somehow, Moira didn't strike him as the type to spend money on expensive clothes or trinkets. Looking at Lucas and thinking about what he had overheard he guessed it was some sort of gift.

Mordred told her "You tell me what you meant then Moira, along with _anything_ else you wish to add." Lucas started to tremble as Moira gave him a scathing look and started speaking.

"When I arrived here, I was welcomed warmly as a friend of Garet's and yours. However as time passed and no further word came from anyone, this one here," she jerked her head towards Lucas, "decided that I was carrying some sort of dreadful secret about you and kept pestering me as to why I had had to leave so suddenly-"

"It's not true! Anyone would have been curious, I only ever asked once . . ." Lucas protested loudly.

"You may have only asked once but the rest of the time you kept insinuating. Insinuating things that were less than pleasant." Moira angrily said to him.

Mordred balled his fists "What kind of things?" he asked Lucas.

"N-nothing my lord. I never-"

"That I was a shamed woman, and the like." Moira answered him.

Lucas' face went pale as he stuttered an explanation, Mordred kept hearing words like rumours and untrue but he couldn't care less at this point. "I sent Moira to you in the hope that you would look after her. I was sure that Garet, my half-brother had told you that she was to be treated with respect, didn't he?"

"Yes of course and I followed out his instructions, I swear-"

"Not according to Moira. And from what I could hear from outside, it certainly doesn't sound like she was treated with respect." Mordred said to him.

Lucas must have completely forgot who he was talking to because all of a sudden he nearly started shouting "I never, I have given her gifts. I have given her everything she should want but she refuses me and insults me. She goes out at all hours, never even bothers to ask or tell anyone where she's going." Lucas looked at him as if he was expecting to understand and side with him, however when he saw how Mordred's face had hardened, he obviously knew he was in trouble.

Mordred told Moira to go. When she passed him, he caught a faint smell of lavender and saw that, instead of her sword that had often hung at her side, there was now a dagger. She caught his gaze for a moment and Mordred saw that she would want to talk with him later, and then she was soon out of sight, leaving him to deal with Lucas.

"Well Lucas, you seem to have found yourself in an _awful_ situation." Mordred drawled, "And what exactly is your defence?"

Lucas swallowed, but kept his voice low and steady, "I have done nothing to harm her or ever make her feel unwelcome. In fact I have treated her with excellent kindness. You saw the gifts I gave her. And how does she thank me? She never comes down to the feats when I ask her to, she always speaks out of turn and she always disappears out the castle without telling anyone where she's going or when she's coming back . ." as Lucas rattled on with his list of Moira's faults, Mordred began to pay less attention and think more about how what Lucas perceived as flaws, were to Mordred, perfectly good qualities. The way Lucas was talking though, it almost made Mordred want to laugh. Everything he said was something that was so typical of Moira, something that everyone at Camelot had accepted and yet she had been here longer, and it still came as a surprise for Lucas.

Mordred waved a hand and Lucas was silent. "I don't particularly care what your excuses are Lucas," Mordred told him, "The truth is Moira was like that when she came to Camelot, and mostly everyone accepted it. So why can't you Lucas?"

Lucas however, wasn't able to come up with an answer so Mordred continued. "We are going to be staying here for a while Lucas, if I catch you doing anything you will be sorry. If I hear anything from anyone that doesn't reflect favourably on you, I can see to it that you lose your castle, your title and maybe . . . if Garet hears about this, you'll lose something else." And as Mordred left the room, he made sure to tell Moira how white Lucas had gone when he'd said that.

She hadn't gone far. She was leaning on a corridor wall just two feet away from where he'd left Lucas. "What did you say to him?" she asked.

"I told him that if he ever bothered you again, he wouldn't be able to count Garet as a friend."

Moira gave him a funny look, "Why do you care though?" Mordred was taken aback, she'd already asked that before and Mordred was sure his answer was still the same- wasn't it?

"Because I do. Is that enough for you?" he replied, not really meeting her eyes. Something about them seemed unusually bright, beautiful and somehow dangerous.

Moira stepped closer to him, and Mordred looked at her fully. Time seemed to pause around her, and it was if Mordred was seeing her for the first time. How fair her skin was, and how blue her eyes were. She gave a small smile and he saw how full her lips were, they were a bit pale but then it was winter. Then it hit Mordred with a horrible twisting, sinking feeling of the stomach. He loved her. He loved Moira. And she was standing right in front of him wanting to know why he helped her.

"Mordred, you've gone pale."

All of a sudden Mordred didn't want to be near her, he wanted to go find somewhere he could be alone and think about something else. Something other than all the tales of love and how it destroyed everything. Names and stories flashed in his mind, Tristan and Isolde, Lancelot and Guinevere. "I helped you because you helped me" he said to the floor, "I'm only trying to repay my debt."

"I understand." was all she said, sounding almost . . . disappointed. Mordred gave her one last look, her face was a mask. A beautiful, sad mask. Mordred tried to shake it out of his head as he headed towards his room, a cold weight on his chest.

**-0-**

Morgause's reaction to Moira's presence had been exactly as Mordred predicted. An angry outburst quickly followed by questioning of Moira on why she was here. Moira of course gave her simple answers that gave nothing away. Ninianne was surprised to see her there and asked her why she hadn't come down the previous night. Moira told her she hadn't been feeling well. When asked about Stephan, as if by a spell he emerged from one of the door ways, shivering and pink faced from the cold. He instantly took the seat that was offered to him by Garet. Soon everyone forgot their questions or became distracted by the roast stag that was placed in the centre of the table. While everyone began to eat Mordred couldn't help but let his gaze keep wondering between Moira, Morgause and Lucas. What would he do? What could he do with Ninianne sat beside him, attempting to make conversation. In the space of a few hours Ninianne's beauty had faded away to prettiness that Mordred could see but didn't move him anymore, her charms were now boring and her talk of what she and Morgause had seen, bought and done was no only annoying. He wanted to talk to Moira but she was the other side of the table, a few seats away from being opposite him. If Moira sent him one last glance, he might end up standing and demanding everyone to leave so he could be alone with her, the looks she sent him could be interpreted in a number of ways, she could have been trying to see what he was thinking or feeling, she could have been begging him to save her from this place, she could have been pleading with him to tell her what he had really meant to say earlier. It was all too tempting to tell Moira to come with him, to do what and where he wasn't sure but the time wouldn't pass fast enough.

A voice snapped out of his thoughts, "W-what?" he said.

"I asked you what Camelot is like in winter." Moira answered, "Is it completely covered in snow? Is it any warmer there than it is here?"

The table had gone quiet as Mordred made his reply "It's like winter anywhere else, snow everywhere and it's just as cold there as it is here."

Moira shrugged as Garet said "Although, if you think its cold here, you should spend a winter in Orkney." The table broke out in small laughter as Moira smiled at Garet and Morgause scowled at Moira.

"It would be interesting to see Orkney. I have never been north of the wall but I wouldn't want to travel in winter though." Moira joked. Mordred's laugh sounded louder than everyone else's but if it had been, no-one noticed.

Morgause, however, had to ruin the growing good mood by saying "I don't think you would like it Orkney Moira, if you don't like the cold then it's hardly the place for you. Not to mention of course, there are fewer of your own religion there."

"I don't dislike the cold my lady, it's just harder to travel through it." Moira replied, glancing at Mordred before turning back to her small plate of food. With that the table broke out in a new wave of conversation. Mordred wolfed down his food and hoped everyone else would finish quickly.

When at last all of the guests had gone to their own chambers, Mordred managed to find Moira waiting outside his own room. When he saw her, he could see that there was something bothering her by the way she was biting her lips, "What do you need to tell me?" he asked.

"Lucas was trying to get me into his bed." Moira said quickly. A surge of anger coursed through Mordred before he managed to calm himself.

"He wasn't successful, was he."

"Obviously not!" Moira snapped.

"Good." Mordred managed to say.

"So what do I do now? Are you going to whisk me away to some other castle far, far away to save me from danger? I can't continue like this!" she whispered, her eyes like blue torches in the darkness.

"I know."

Moira came closer till he could smell her lavender perfume and pick out the little stitches at the top of her dress . . . no! He couldn't even think like that. "I still don't believe what you said earlier," she said "I still don't understand why you help me even though your mother hates me and you're practically engaged-"

"I am not engaged." he snapped. How could she know about Ninianne? How could she even guess?

"You're as good as." That was true Mordred thought. But he couldn't now though, the very thought made him feel ill, and as he had told himself earlier, Morgause couldn't force him. Moira sighed "I should just go. On my own again, maybe Stephan could find me somewhere in his village to stay. I don't need a castle to live in and every time you help me it gets worse." She put her hands on her hips, "That, and every time I let a man help me, he always expects something in return."

"Well I don't Moira, in fact I am genuinely trying to help you but its not easy running a kingdom and keeping you safe." Mordred told her.

"Maybe I don't need you to keep me safe, I can take care of myself, and I've being doing it for years now."

"I want you to stay where I can find you and that means staying here. Lucas knows that if he touches you he'll have to deal with me and Garet and you've taken care of yourself so far." He knew how terrible it sounded but he couldn't think of any other solution that would keep her somewhat near.

Then Moira did something he never would have expected. She placed one hand gently to the side of his face. Mordred stiffened. It was both calming and completely terrifying. If someone saw them . . . "Why do you want to know where I am Mordred?" she asked gently.

Mordred took a deep breath, there was no point on trying to hide it. It would become obvious sooner or later. "Can't you tell why?" he asked putting his hand to cover hers where it lay on his face, "Is it not obvious Moira?"

He heard her give a small gasp but she didn't blush or look away. She pulled her hand away and said "It is now." and she walked slowly past him. She turned back once and said "Meet me by the stables tomorrow at midday, make sure you're alone and not followed."

Mordred didn't nod, instead he pushed the door open and once the door was closed, he fell fully clothed, face down onto the bed. Mordred wasn't sure whether to feel better that Moira knew something of what he felt, or be afraid that she would reject or not understand his feelings. Yet, she had had some look of knowing when she had touched him. He rolled over and pulled of his boots, a horrible thought gripping his heart. Even if she did reciprocate his feelings, what could possibly come of it? So long as Morgause drew breath, she would never allow Mordred to marry or even be near Moira. Mordred fell back on the bed. It wasn't right, that he should be high king with everything he had ever wanted and now the one thing he wanted most, he couldn't have _because_ he was high king. It wasn't fair.

**-0-**

Mordred tapped his foot and rubbed his hands together, watching his breath come out as steam. By the stables, Moira had told him to wait and that was exactly what he was doing. He passed most of the morning trying to persuade Morgause and Ninianne to go out again, and watching Lucas' every movement. He had been successful on persuading the women to leave; apparently there had been some friend of theirs that Ninianne had told him about, someone called Lamorak. As for Lucas, he couldn't help but get the feeling Lucas was avoiding him. However Mordred took every opportunity to glare at him whenever he saw him. Moira, had yet to be seen anywhere, whether it was Morgause or Lucas she was avoiding, Mordred wasn't sure but in all honesty he couldn't blame her. He'd kept dreaming about meeting Moira here, and every time, Morgause or Lucas would come along and it would slip into a nightmare. She'd end up leaving or somehow she would just disappear. The worst part had always been waking up after feeling Excalibur pierce him. He'd even had to check the scar just to make sure it wasn't bleeding.

He heard snow crunch behind him and turned to see Moira standing richly dressed in furs, and pale as the snow she was standing on. "Are they gone?" she whispered.

Mordred nodded, "They left to see some friend of my mother's. They won't be back for some time."

"Did you tell anyone you were coming here? Do you think you were followed?"

"No." He knew Lucas wouldn't have followed him, he'd set Garet to keep him distracted, not that he had worded it like that to Garet. No-one could or would know about this. Not ever.

Moira stayed silent and still, and somehow Mordred could see something like beauty on her, even in the weak sunlight. She was as white and cold as a marble statue. He remembered some Greek legend about a man who had fallen in love with a statue. Moira was close enough to one, her face was fixed in an emotionless mask, her body absolutely rigid. As the silence passed, Mordred became more and more nervous. When it was clear Moira wasn't going to speak first, Mordred huffed and asked her why she had wanted to speak with him.

"I don't know what to do." she replied "Lucas won't be held off by you forever."

"He will be." Mordred tried to reassure her, "And if he does anything-"

"You'll do what? Have him executed, take his titles and land? Bring me to Camelot?"

This wasn't what he wanted to talk about, it wasn't what he needed to talk about. So Mordred sighed and said "What do you want me to do?"

Moira raised her arms in exasperation, "Anything. Something. Before I leave and never ever come back."

Mordred stepped forward and grabbed her shoulders without even thinking. "Don't do it. No-one can harm you, so long as Stephan is with you. Besides if you should ever need somewhere to go, you _can_ return to Camelot and we _can _find you somewhere better-"

"I will not be passed around from castle to castle! None of your plans have worked so far Mordred, and when Lucas goes too far, I'll deal with it myself." Moira hissed. Mordred still didn't let go of her shoulders, he was trying to see if she meant what she said. Would she really just disappear without even seeing him or telling anyone? He prayed not.

There was one way to make her stay. A way he both feared and felt he needed to. He slowly released her, "I don't want you to go Moira." he said slowly, forcing the words off his tongue. "I want you to stay where I can find you. I want to keep you safe and in Camelot you'll be even less safe, especially with Morgause around." Moira didn't move or show any visible reaction to what he had just said. Just looking at her was pulling at his heartstrings. Painfully and slowly. "Damn it Moira!" he snapped, "Don't you understand what I'm telling you. Won't you do something? Won't you say something?" still she didn't react. All of a sudden Mordred couldn't bear to look her in the eye. "If you don't just say. Just tell me and I can at least kno-"

Something cold and soft pressed against his lips. Before Mordred could hope to understand or even get used to the feeling Moira pulled back. "There," she said defiantly, "Now you know how I feel but it doesn't change anything. Nothing can come of it."

Too stunned to think of anything else, Mordred said "Maybe not now but I'm my own man. So long as you're safe, I can be happy. So long as I can talk to you and see you then I can be content. I can't marry Ninianne, Morgause won't make me and whenever we can, we can be together." It was naïve. It was all wishful thinking, but it was the only thing he could think of saying.

Moira started to chuckle, a bitter sound, and when she spoke, she still sounded resentful, "You know, I think I'm cursed. Maybe Morgause was right, maybe I should have stayed away."

Mordred didn't want to know when Morgause had said this, he didn't really have to. "So what do you want to do now?" he asked, "We have a few more hours before she returns."

Moira shook her head "Right now Mordred, I want to think. If I need to see you again I'll find you."

As she walked away, Mordred fought every instinct to follow her or demand that she stay, or even beg her to speak with him. But when he started to walk back inside, he realised that maybe it was for the best. If she had stayed with him too long, he'd find it that much harder to go on pretending nothing had changed. It was a miserable situation, but it was better than nothing Mordred thought once he was back inside. It didn't seem as warm as it had been when he'd left it earlier, but then Mordred didn't care to feel anything at that moment.

**-0-**

Hours later, while faking interest in Morgause's conversation about Lamorak, Mordred noticed Moira slip quietly into the hall. She sent him a curt nod in his direction and quickly moved over to where Stephan was sitting. They had indeed talked after meeting by the stables- not a single word had been spoken relating to their predicament. She had only asked that he make sure Lucas never harmed her or Stephan, and Mordred had done his best to reassure her. She was still unconvinced, however after Mordred had said that he could let Garet stay and protect her, she had been adamant he stay with him. Mordred hadn't blamed her for it, Moira was a cautious woman, she had good reason to be considering the look of disgust on Morgause's face.

Something poked his arm. "Mordred, are you listening to me?" Morgause asked impatiently.

He didn't bother to even try and sound apologetic "No, sorry mother, I was just thinking that's all."

She tutted, "Look at her over there, dressed like a whore. I don't exactly wonder who she's getting all those clothes and trinkets from." Morgause tutted again, "Personally I hope she gets a fever, we'll see if anyone is so willing to help her when her face is no longer pretty."

Mordred could have been sick, he could have shouted. He wanted to shout at her to leave Moira alone because they were . . . but he couldn't so he grit his teeth, clenched his fists and said to Morgause "She is not a whore, and_ personally_, I think you're one of the very few who wishes her harm."

Morgause snorted- loudly "Why? Who do you know wants to keep her safe?"

"Garet and Stephan." he replied and he walked away before she could say anything else. If he'd have looked behind him, he would have seen the look of confusion on most people's faces. If he had looked behind him, he would have seen the look of anger Morgause gave Moira. If he had looked behind him, he would have seen the look of concern on Moira's face.

Chapter ten: Lamorak

Mordred yawned then stretched his arms. The fire in his room was making him somewhat slow and sleepy, and the heavy perfume his mother insisted on being put in all the rooms didn't help. He read over the last letter Moira had sent him (it had to be few weeks old now) and put it on top of a small stack of paper that was her other letters. Mordred always tried not to look at them, whenever he did he would always end up depressed- a grand total of four letters over three months was just not enough. No matter how impressive Moira's clear writing, the letters themselves were infuriating, as they were all too short for Mordred to ever be comfortable. The one thing they all had in common was that they all told him Lucas had left her to her own devices after he had visited, and that she was getting infuriated with Stephan's decision to follow her most of the time. In his reply he admitted that before he had left, Mordred had again taken Lucas and threatened him with nothing short of death if Lucas ever harmed or forced Moira to do anything she didn't want to. What he hadn't admitted was that he had told Stephan to keep her safe and to keep an eye on her at all times. Obviously Stephan had followed his instructions out to the last word. Yet still, Mordred was uneasy at her letters- they only seemed written to tell him a small part of what he wanted to know. There was never any sentiment shown in them, nothing to suggest what had happened hadn't been just a figment of his imagination. Mordred hadn't expected anything too romantic from Moira although it would have been a nice surprise if she had written something of her feelings towards him, but there was no mention of anything that had happened, what he had said, what she had done. It was enough to make him consider going back over to Londonium and talking with her in person.

Someone rapped at the door. "Who is it and what do you want?" Mordred asked while rubbing his eyes.

Agravaine strode in, as angry as he was the day Moira had hit him. "Lamorak insists on wearing mother's colours for a tournament."

"_And?_"

"Don't you think that's a bit odd?"

"Considering mother's recent favouritism of him, in all honesty, no." Lamorak had joined them shortly after they had returned from Londonium, much to Morgause's pleasure as he obviously had left some kind of impression on her when she had visited. Mordred could remember hearing about Lamorak from Ninianne on the journey back to Camelot, he was of the old religion, he was courteous and all the like. He'd heard all the same from Morgause and now that Lamorak was here, he had to endure it nearly every day.

"I don't like that pup," Agravaine said "He tells me that he's only taking her colours for the tournament out of gratitude for letting him stay here, but I don't believe it."

"Obviously." Mordred looked over one of the letters, picking out the words from Moira's letter.

"Mother likes him more than she should. She keeps inviting him into her personal chambers too, I've seen them. There's something not right about it Mordred. We have to do something."

That caught Mordred's attention. "Such as what Agravaine?" he looked at Agravaine's furious face and could already hear his reply.

"I say we take him aside and teach him not to go sneaking around with the high queen mother."

"I say you're being ridiculous and if you even think about it a moment longer, you'll spend a night or two in the dungeons."

Agravaine's eyes widened and his red face flushed pale. "You wouldn't. Not to your own brother . . . or half-brother."

"I would if I thought you were going to do something reckless and stupid." Mordred told him in a serious voice.

Agravaine turned red again "Reckless! It's a matter of honour, it's a matter of family in"

"It's none of your business Agravaine, besides you have no proof so leave them alone. I don't want to hear another word about it Agravaine." Mordred added when he saw Agravaine was about to make a furious retort.

Agravaine gave him a look of disbelief, and then stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Mordred picked up Moira's last letter and re-read the last lines. _All is well here, but I heard that Lamorak has come to stay at Camelot. No matter what happens, try not to do anything too foolish and reckless. _Mordred threw it back in the pile, _there, you see Moira, I kept out of trouble, and I even persuaded Agravaine to do the same _he thought. "Now would you please give me a sign of what you feel." Mordred said aloud to the empty room, hoping that one of the gods would hear his prayer and make it so.

**-0-**

As Mordred headed towards the great hall, Garet came out clearly agitated. When Mordred asked him what was wrong, Garet replied "Mother hasn't come down yet and Agravaine and Gawain want to know where she is." Mordred couldn't see what the fuss was all about. Morgause didn't always come down to the feasts, sometimes if she had wanted a moment to herself or she just wanted to eat in peace, she would take a meal in her room. Mordred told Garet this but Garet just shook his head again and mumbled something like "Someone else is missing."

"Who?"

"Lamorak." Mordred's blood ran cold, if Agravaine got too suspicious, he could do a great deal of harm. Mordred had seen it with Lancelot and Guinevere, considering it was his mother though, it could only get a lot worse. Knowing Agravaine's temper, he'd do something beyond reckless, if Agravaine thought that there was something between Lamorak and Morgause that he thought would reflect badly on him, he'd murder anyone to get rid of the problem.

"I'll go and find her. She can't go far, can she Garet?" Mordred said, trying to sound cheerful.

"What about Agravaine and Gawain?"

"Just keep them in their seats and tell them I'll be back with Mother and Lamorak soon. Oh, and tell everyone there's no need for them to wait for us. They can start without us." Mordred said as he turned back the way he came. The first place to look would be her room, he just hoped that his suspicions were wrong.

It could be something harmless, he supposed. It could just be Morgause was feeling unwell and Lamorak was out somewhere else. It could be that they were simply talking. Anything but what he feared. His pace quickened, he could see Morgause's room door without even remembering how he got there.

He heard laughter from inside and pounded on the door. The laughing immediately stopped. Morgause opened the door, her face was still flushed with laughing but at the look on Mordred's face, the light that had been in her eye's instantly dimmed. Mordred peered over her shoulder and Morgause moved to block him, "Mordred what are you doing here?" as if there was nothing odd going on. It was too late- Mordred had already caught a glimpse of the ruffled bed sheets. He couldn't see Lamorak but Mordred knew he was there. A cold fury built up in, him half of him wanted to go in there and beat Lamorak senseless, the other half wanted to shout at his mother for acting like a . . . a woman less than half her age. He inhaled deeply and told her, keeping his voice calm "The feast is about to begin and we were wondering where you were."

Morgause bit her lip and rapped her fingers against the door. "I'll be there shortly Mordred."

"Good because Agravaine was getting concerned."

"Oh."

Mordred turned away and started walking back to the great hall. This could not go well, Mordred knew. When Agravaine found out, which Mordred was sure he would, he could face a full blood feud.

At least when Morgause came down later, Agravaine didn't say or ask anything incriminating. Morgause just said that she hadn't been feeling too well and that Lamorak had come to check on her, everyone was content with that. Mordred was a little surprised at how easily they believed her, especially Agravaine who was the hardest person to fool, but then maybe no-one wanted to even think it. Even when Lamorak came in, he managed to repeat Morgause's story but that could have been because they'd rehearsed it. So far though, no insults, no fights had ensued, no implications so Mordred let himself relax a little. But then Agravaine ruined it. "So why did you see to my mother's needs Lamorak? Why not find one of her sons to care for her instead?"

The clattering of plates and utensils stopped. The hall had gone silent. Mordred instantly tensed up and tried to stop the situation getting any worse, "Agravaine, it doesn't matter. Our mother is better now so don't complain-"

"I'm not complaining Mordred, I'm just asking." Agravaine said while he stood up. Mordred began to rise, and he saw out of the corner of his eye Lamorak begin to stand up too.

"If my lord is wondering why I did not go to him or any other healers, it was only because the lady Morgause asked me not to." Lamorak said calmly.

Agravaine's face turned red, a sign Mordred knew was not good, "And why would she do that?"

Lamorak shrugged "Ask her yourself?"

Before Agravaine could reply Mordred stepped in "That's enough! Both of you sit back down and try to hold your tempers. There will be no fighting or squabbling over this table."

Agravaine scowled but they both sat down, still glaring at each other, only Morgause's plea to both of them seemed to break the tension. "Please, enough, there's no need for misunderstandings between us. Agravaine," she said fondly, "there's no need to be angry. What Lamorak says is true so let's forget this and enjoy the meal." she said quickly. Mordred held back in a sigh. Despite how much Agravaine loved Morgause, he couldn't just forget it, once he had in his mind an idea or opinion he would never let it go. That, and Morgause was not the most convincing liar when she was put under pressure. She could lie to her brother and husband but not to her sons.

As the hall started to fill with talk and clatter again, Mordred looked over at the entire table. All of the knight's eyes were flitting between their food, their neighbours and Agravaine, who was still glaring at Lamorak. Lamorak however, paid no notice. He was talking with Garet and Ninianne who were sat on each side of him. Mordred grabbed a loaf of bread and tore it in half. Now more than ever, he wished Moira was there with him. She would have something to say, give him some idea on what to do. It would be a comfort for him at least, to have someone who he could talk about this to. He tucked in, feeling more miserable than he had that morning.

**-0-**

Within days, Mordred saw the situation between Lamorak and Agravaine get worse and worse and worse. At every opportunity Agravaine could take, he would insist on accompanying his mother everywhere and when he couldn't he would insist that one of his brothers should. Fortunately for Mordred, Agravaine had learned that asking Mordred to help him wouldn't work. Mordred's step-father King Lot had always thought a fist was good way to teach, so Mordred had no problem with teaching that lesson to Agravaine. Of course now the problem was that Agravaine thought that Mordred was siding with Lamorak, even Lamorak had the nerve to think Mordred was siding with him. The other day Lamorak had said to him "My lord, I'm grateful you know, and so is the lady." Mordred had been tempted to hit him as well.

"Grateful? You have nothing to be grateful for. I'm just making sure no-one gets killed." and Mordred had walked off, leaving Lamorak visibly confused and alarmed.

Mordred had written to Moira as soon as he had found the right way to put it. The messenger he had sent looked a little reluctant when Mordred had told him where he was taking it, but he hadn't said anything. However when Moira's reply came back quicker than expected, Mordred felt considerably better, when he actually read the letter, the heavy weight that had been on his heart lifted.

_Mordred,_

_I thought what was happening to me was terrible. What is happening to you is horrible but don't lose your temper. If you do it will only get worse, my advice is keep yourself out of it as much as possible. I wish I could give you help or do something but I'm here and I doubt Morgause will like me any more if I come all the way from Londonium just to see you. Everything here is perfectly well, the only thing I have to complain about is Stephan continuing to follow me or constantly wanting to know where I'm going, what I'm doing. I'm still thankful for what you did regarding Lucas. _

_Don't let what is happening make you too upset Mordred, although I would understand if you are. I wish I could give more advice but what else can I say, other than don't let anyone make you too angry. Remember you are the high king, with that comes responsibility as well as power. Use both wisely. My regards to all your family._

_I hope I see you again soon._

_Moira. _

It surprised Mordred how much something as simple as that made it easier to deal with everything. It even made it slightly easier to deal with the idea that Morgause and Lamorak were lovers, something which before would have made him feel almost sick. He supposed it was the fact that loving Moira and not being able to see her made him understand why Lamorak and Morgause were acting the way they were. Coupled with the fact that this had been the first time in which Moira had at last written down that she cared, Mordred was a whole lot better. He walked out into one of the gardens, passing Lamorak and Ninianne who were probably surprised to see him with a huge smile on his face. He couldn't help it though- for a moment he felt that nothing could bring his spirits down again.

"What is that Mordred?" Ninianne asked. She'd followed him.

"Nothing. Just a letter from a friend, none of your concern."

"Can I see it?"

"No." why did she want to see it? What part of none of her concern did she not understand?

Ninianne pouted childishly "Can you tell me who it is from?"

"No."

"Is it from someone important?"

"To me, yes."

"Can I at least know what it's about?" Up to that point Mordred had never realised how childish Ninianne could be, pretty yes, but now she was just infuriating.

Mordred nearly shouted, "No! Now leave me." Ninianne didn't move, she had a hurt expression but Mordred wasn't interested. "Leave!" he shouted and Ninianne scurried away.

He sighed as he watched her go, his temper cooling down. Maybe that hadn't been a brilliant idea, knowing Ninianne she'd go to Morgause and tell her son was acting erratic. Morgause would come and demand to know what was happening and before the night was out, everyone would want to know who it was from. Everyone that mattered, that is. Mordred looked back at the piece of parchment in his fist, he hadn't realised that he had scrunched it up. He just had to see Moira again otherwise he would be miserable and angry for only the gods knew how long.

Something clicked. The tournament! All the young men came to that to prove their skills, if Lucas came, which Mordred was sure he would, Moira would come too. Then he remembered a conversation he'd had with her once. Mordred had asked her before they had left Lucas' castle why she always kept to herself.

"_Why do you always try and avoid the feasts? You did it even before you came here."_

"_Because I like my privacy."_

"_Why? You just don't like being near people?" he'd asked_

"_Because I don't like being with people who don't like me or being around people I don't like." _

Mordred would write to her and ask her to come. She would have to agree, surely if she meant what she had said, she would come. In a tournament it would be easy just to speak with her, to break away from the crowd and be with her. Morgause wouldn't notice, she'd be with Lamorak, Ninianne would just have to be avoided and as for the rest of the knights- they would be having far too much entertainment jousting and duelling to notice. That or they would be being examined by the healers, Mordred inwardly grinned at the thought of Lucas getting thrown off his horse, it would serve him right. Mordred's good mood was back. The tournament was two weeks away but Mordred could wait that long. He could picture it, a bright sunny day, different coloured banners everywhere, all the noble families dressed in their finest, and the knights in glistening armour. Then Moira standing in the crowd, smiling- at him. He walked hastily back to his chamber- he'd scribble an invitation and oversee every detail of the tournament himself. It had to be perfect, he thought, he'd pray to every god and goddess if he had to. He'd even pray to the Christian god so long as Morgause and Ninianne never found out.

Just as he reached his door, Morgause intercepted him. "Mordred, Ninianne just came and told me something very odd." she said condescendingly. Mordred sighed, he hated it when Morgause was talking to him as if he was a little child.

"If it's about me shouting at her earlier, I don't want to hear you chiding me." he said opening the door.

"Who is that letter from Mordred? Everyone has seen that you've been acting strangely, sending messengers here and there. Why? What secrets are you keeping from your own family?

"I don't feel I have to explain everything I do to you Mother or anyone else. You don't come and tell me all your secrets . . . except when it serves as useful for you. And I am not the one who should be concerned about acting strangely when there are others who have a deeper sense of pride and morality then you." Mordred added.

Morgause went red with anger. Mordred knew he was walking on dangerous grounds- Morgause had been called many things in her life: princess, queen, witch, whore, traitor and murderess but never had any of her sons ever voiced any opinion on her ways. They had loved her too strongly for that. When they had been children she couldn't have done wrong- when they each became men, they had always seen their mother as the victim of Uther's and Arthur's lust. Now Mordred was high king and had another's opinion that he valued.

"Who is it that teaches you to think like this? How can you have turned against me? Me! Your own mother!" Morgause cried, sounding close to tears. She gasped, as if realising something, "It's that peasant, is it not? Moira, she's trying to turn you against me!"

Mordred had to keep from rolling his eyes. Never, in all the time Mordred had spent with Moira nor in any of her letters, had a bad word on his mother been spoken. "Mother, Moira has never spoken a word against you, not in any of my conversations with her has she-"

"You've spoke with her. You shouldn't be wasting your time with her, you should be with Ninianne or your brothers, not that simple peasant." Mordred was about to reply when Morgause said something that made all his precautions justified. "I knew I should have had her poisoned, at least to cover her in boils. Your brothers and the rest of the knights wouldn't be so willing to protect her then. Oh don't worry Mordred, I would never kill her but she needed to learn her place." Morgause said reassuringly. Mordred stood there, numb at what his mother had confessed. It couldn't be right. He knew that his mother was no stranger to killing, she had been the one to lead him onto the path of killing Arthur, she had seen animals killed, given orders for captured Saxon soldiers to be executed even after Lot had died. But this- to consider harming Moira. It was different. Mordred had accepted Morgause's what others had called 'cruelty' as a leader's firmness and strength- but this? It wasn't right, it was different to anything he had known. It just couldn't be right. However what she said next shook him back into his senses. "Women like her condemned women like me, and when it was most convenient, they shall of course act like the slatterns her religion despises. The curse I put on her shall have to suffice, though I hear Lucas was paying her particular attention. I wonder what kind of repayment he was getting?"

"ENOUGH!" Mordred bellowed. Morgause flinched. "She is not what you think she is. She is better than that. And what is this about cursing? What exactly did you do?"

"Nothing, I just wrote on a tablet and offered it to the gods and-" Mordred held his hand up to silence her. He was not nearly as strong a believer as Morgause was but he still feared the gods and he still prayed to them. Mordred hoped that they were on Moira's side now more than ever. "Mordred," Morgause said soothingly and putting on a smile, "let's forget this shall we? We can go back downstairs and you can apologise to Ninianne, I'm sure she would forgive you. She can't avoid you forever, after all you two have been such good friends." She tugged at his arm, "Come now, you know how much you mean to her, she cares for you Mordred. She cares for you so much." Mordred pulled away.

"Mother, I will never marry Ninianne." he held up his hand to silence her again. "Regardless of what you think of Moira she will always remain a friend to Camelot." Again Morgause tried to interrupt but Mordred carried on, "I pray for her welfare as do most of her friends here, you will never succeed in making Camelot hate her, she is too well liked. Furthermore, at the tournament Lucas will be coming and I plan on asking Moira to come as well so you had better learn to like her. Now if you will excuse me" Mordred said as he pulled open the door, "I plan to write out the invitations and I can assure you, one way or the other Moira is coming to the tournament."

He shut the door before she could say anything but the look of fury on her face was forever etched into his mind. He leant against the door and listened as her footsteps got quieter and quieter. Mordred looked down at the letter and then looked at the tapestry on the wall. It had been one his mother made him, the royal hounds chasing a white stag. Mordred sighed, he was stuck with a choice; Morgause or Moira, his mother or his lover. He could only give complete loyalty to one.

Chapter 11: the tournament

The day of the tournament arrived and it was everything that everyone had hoped for. The sun shone down through white clouds, the rain that had kept the ground thoroughly wet had passed the night before and the crowds were ecstatic. There was only one reason for Mordred to be uneasy- there was no sign of Moira. From where he sat in the main stand, he should have been able to see every face in the crowd but no sign of Moira was to be found. Mordred had invited her personally, she agreed to meet him, he was sure he had seen Lucas' coat of arms on one of the banners, so where was she?

The thundering hooves of the knights and their mounts made it difficult to think, he normally enjoyed these sort of things but he knew that he would have enjoyed it more with Moira there. The knights crashed together, the metal on them clanged throughout the entire field. Mordred couldn't even remember seeing them come within striking range yet he had been watching the spot where they collided. He shifted himself in his seat which was placed a little higher than everyone else's. It was supposed to be like that so that the high king could have everyone in sight, to Mordred it was so everyone could see him. The two knights were fighting with swords now, as one jabbed close to the others stomach Morgause, who was seated at his right, gasped and he heard some of the other attending women both cheer and hiss. All of his half-brothers were down in the stocks waiting for their turn to fight. Mordred envied them, he used to be able to fight with the other champions and show the world his skill- now as high king he could be no more than spectator and judge. As he waited for Moira to show any sign of herself, he understood how frustrating it must have been for Arthur when Guinevere was accused of adultery and it had to be Lancelot, of all the people, to go and defend her. A flash of blue fabric caught his attention, over in the stand facing opposite him where the poorer were seated. What had Moira said to watch out for? A blue dress. There could be hundreds of women in blue dresses at the tournament, how was he supposed to recognise her face from here? He re-read her letter from his memory.

_Mordred. _

_I would be honoured to come. Though I think Stephan would have insisted on me coming anyway, he says he can't sleep well if he can't see where I am, in a brotherly nature of course. All is quiet and calm here, most of my days are spent reading and trying to avoid the other women as they are determined to see me sat a spindle or do some embroidery. I hope everything at Camelot is well. I do pray for you and your family to wish you good luck, not that you are in desperate need of it you are smart when you want to be. I hope this letter brings you as much joy as the tournament does, men always enjoy those sort of things._

_We should meet in private, after the main events of the day are over and when you won't be missed. I will wear a blue dress so hopefully you will be able to pick me out in a crowd, or at least have some way of finding me. Though then again, if you see Stephan, I shouldn't be far away. _

_I look forward to seeing you again with all my heart._

_Moira. _

It had been the most emotive letter Mordred had received from Moira so far, therefore he was sure she must be there. He rapped his fingers against the arm rest, trying to pay attention to the fighting going on in front of him. The younger knight was slowing down, all his jumping and darting around had tired him out. The older knight, a welsh lord, was clearly the better of the two, or at least he knew how to keep a steady defence. Mordred couldn't remember his name even though all the hopefuls had their names and positions announced before the fight. He had been scanning the crowd while trying to sit still and also daydreaming about Moira. He was embarrassed really, nearly ashamed, that a woman or anyone could make him this . . . useless. Lovesick is what his half-brothers would deem it, and had it been anyone else, he would have laughed with them.

"My lord, declare the victor." The fight was over, and he hadn't noticed. It was the welsh knight that had won, he certainly had fewer cuts on him than his opponent. Mordred stood as a page brought forth a golden chain resting on a red cushion. The victor moved forward and bowed his head so Mordred could place the chain around his neck. As he took the heavy chain and placed it over the knight's head, Mordred gave the stands a survey without turning his head. Nothing. He stepped back and allowed the knight to rise, when the crowd cheered, again Mordred took the opportunity to look around him. Again, nothing. Mordred clenched his jaw and sat back down again and nearly shot right back up.

In the stand directly opposite him, pushing her way to the seat directly opposite him was Moira. In a blue dress just as she said she would. Mordred relaxed, letting the heat of the day warm him up. While the disgraced loser went back to his friends and family to tend to any injuries, Mordred smiled at her, feeling that somehow Moira could see it.

"Mordred? What are you smiling at?" Morgause asked nervously. She had been avoiding him recently and when she did speak to him, she was always trying to persuade him to spend more time with Ninianne.

"Everything Mother." he said cheerily, "It's a beautiful day, all the people are happy. Why would I not smile?"

**-0-**

"I was worried you weren't coming." was the first thing Mordred said to Moira once they were behind the stands. The rest of the tournament had become more enjoyable for Mordred knowing that Moira was there and seeing Lucas receive a beating in the final round had definitely cheered him up. Moira had obviously enjoyed it too judging by the grin on her face as Lucas was carried out unconscious. Now as everyone else made their way round to the stalls or headed back to the castle for food and drink, he could finally be alone with her.

"It was difficult to get away from Stephan. He was with the other . . . squires I suppose you could say. Lucas keeps him as a sort of an assistant, and he wanted me nearby."

Mordred could feel a combination of suspicion, jealousy and anger rise up in him as he said "Stephan likes keeping you close then."

She gave him a worried look "Only as a brother, that's all I think of him, and he only thinks of me as a sister. He told me." She pushed his shoulder playfully, "Besides, you're the one who keeps wanting to see me. I'm starting to get worried about how often all of you want to keep me in their range of sight. I can take care of myself, I've done it for years."

Mordred laughed "Exactly. That's why I want to keep you near, there are few women like you."

"That's a good thing." she replied, now serious again.

Mordred thought it would be best to leave it there, what he wanted to know she would tell him later. It was comfort enough to have her with him. "Is there anywhere or anything you wish to see?"

They turned to see the crowds, a few young men and women were looking at them. "Somewhere away from gossip would be nice."

Mordred agreed and suggested they go behind the royal stand, no-one was in the arena so they wouldn't have to whisper and nobody would see them. If Morgause or Ninianne found them, he wouldn't be able to escape their wrath. He wondered if he should tell Moira about what Morgause had said about cursing her but when he saw her seem so calm and relaxed, he decided against it. There would be nothing useful gained by it, the only thing it would do was scare Moira- it might even put her off coming to see him. As they walked, he could feel a few eyes on him but nothing else. He asked her how she found Londonium and what she was doing to pass the time. "Mostly trying to find a way to escape Stephan's watch, and the abbess of the castle." she replied. She went on to tell him that the abbess was convinced all women should learn how to spin. Moira continued to feed him jokes about how red her face would go whenever she would catch Moira outside reading or sparring with Stephan.

Once the crowd had thinned and they had reached the stand, Mordred only just noticed how large it was. Arthur had built it in the early years of being high king as a way to choose his knight's; it had been part of what made him popular with everyone. Now he had done the same, although he wasn't going to get as attached as Arthur had. That made betrayal or failure much worse. Moira stopped beneath where the royal banner hung over the edge, Mordred paused just to watch her take in the banner, the stand, and then him. "How is your mother?" she asked quickly.

He moved forward and pretended to pay attention to the banner work. "She is well enough, but I did say something that caused her a problem."

"What was that?"

"I told her I would never marry Ninianne, in no uncertain terms."

Mordred had expected her to look flattered, pleased, not alarmed. "You didn't tell her why. Did you?"

"No."

She breathed out a sigh, "Thank God for that. If she had figured out that we- what we are any sooner, she probably would have thrown every curse she could against me, and then I would never be able to come to Camelot without having to look over my shoulder every second."

Mordred blurted out "What makes you think she would curse you?"

"I don't know. I'm just guessing what she would do. I have seen those of the old religion use tablets to curse people and things. I found one once, whatever the person had done to them to earn such hate I don't know, but whatever it was, their punishment was certainly horrible."

He grabbed her hand. "I would never let anything happen to you, not while I'm high king." he said earnestly. Moira squeezed his hand back and Mordred used his free hand to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. "I am telling you the truth Moira, I swear it. Neither Lucas or Morgause can or will harm you while I have anything to say about it." he told her as reassuringly as he could.

She squeezed his hand again. "That's a comfort to hear, I haven't really had anyone say that they would try to look out for me before. I've spent so many years looking after myself that having someone else want to, without wanting something back- it's quite a change."

Mordred snorted, that was obvious from her suspicion of others claiming to help her. Even he knew that there was little help someone like her could receive from the world. There was little for women of her station to look for other than a good marriage. He looked back at her and then noticed how close they were, how much closer they were getting . . . they kissed.

It was deeper than their first had been, longer, sweeter. He forgot everything that had ever happened, he forgot Morgause, he forgot Lucas, and he forgot he was high king. He was just Mordred, she was just Moira and for that moment he was happy to be nothing else.

"Mordred!"

Both of them jumped apart and let go of each other's hands like they were hot metal. Ninianne was standing there, with a hurt and furious look on her face that Mordred had only ever seen on his mother when Lot had died. Only this was worse, she was shaking with anger from the top of her golden head to the bottom of her rose coloured dress. Moira was completely unabashed "What is it Ninianne? What do you want?"

Mordred had to admire Moira's self-control at times, he could still feel the blush on his face while she was as pale as she had been before.

Ninianne sniffed- she was trying not to cry. Mordred could tell, he had seen it when he was younger after Ninianne had been scolded after she had lost a ring that Morgause had let her borrow. He had to pity her, at the very least. Ninianne had been raised as his promised, now there was nothing for her, all she had known was gone. He briefly wondered if Moira pitied her.

"Ninianne," Moira said gently "We didn't mean this to hurt you."

"It's true Ninianne." Mordred added "We can't choose what happens to us or how we feel," Mordred and Moira looked at each other, "this is just how it is." Ninianne swallowed, and Mordred saw how her eyes were slightly watery. It was hurtful to see someone he knew like this but he couldn't change what he felt about Moira, and he was determined that nothing could change this, not for the worst. "You can't tell my mother Ninianne or anyone, you realise that don't you." She nodded slowly.

Moira left his side and headed towards the exit "If you need me I'll be with Stephan." she told him, then to Ninianne she said "I am sorry about how this happened, however I am not sorry that it happened." and she slipped away.

Mordred tried to speak but Ninianne spoke first, "Your mother is looking for you, I suggest you go to her." before he could ask why, she walked away too.

Mordred bit his lip, this wasn't as he had planned it. Then again nothing ever really went according to his plans. Joining Arthur, exposing the adultery between Lancelot and Guinevere then leading an army against Arthur before he could reach Camelot- it had seemed so easy when he planned it, putting it into motion, however, had been much harder. The disgust of everyone he knew and the whispers of traitor, bastard child, cursed one became louder to him. Morgause had warned him about becoming too involved with his enemies, now of all the ironies he was in love with someone who she deemed enemy through and through. He went back towards the castle, walking as fast as he could without running. Maybe Merlin had been right, maybe he was cursed.

**-0-**

He never got to speak with Moira again throughout the rest of the day, because for a short time wherever he went Morgause or one of his half-brothers followed him, and whenever he did for a short time manage to lose them, Moira was stuck next to Stephan. Though it gave him comfort that he could at least see her, he was prepared to act as though there was nothing between them. Moira was doing a good job of it, she barely faced him at all. When she did though, it was worth it, she would give him a small smile and for a moment her face would say _I do care but I can't show it._ The only thing that nearly brought his spirits down was that Ninianne had withdrawn to her chambers but without anyone's notice fortunately Morgause hadn't fussed about it like she normally would have. Although that was mostly due to the fact that she was busy gossiping with anyone she could speak to. After he had politely brushed her off saying he needed to talk with the other men she had kept her distance. Most of the new knights he recruited seemed happy enough to be serving him and Camelot, he was surprised how easily they accepted him. Throughout his childhood all the young men he had known had all wanted to serve as knights under Arthur, now they had almost forgotten him, not that Mordred was going to complain, they were happy to accept him as high king and he was happy to let the past be forgotten. He gave Moira a grin from over his shoulder, she smiled back- then covered it with her sleeve as Stephan started talking with her. It would be nice to look to the future, Mordred thought, a future that didn't involve killing someone to gain his own happiness. Thinking of Moira and their kiss, Mordred resolved himself to make sure that his future would be brighter than his past. 

"You're more joyous than I've seen you for a long time." Garet said from somewhere to his left.

"Mother told me that during the tournament. The way she said it, you would think that I'm not allowed to enjoy myself as much as everyone else." Mordred joked.

Garet sniggered "It's because you were so miserable just a few weeks ago. It was as if you'd aged ten years within a day. Now you're more yourself. She just can't keep up with your changing moods."

"Surely I can't have been that depressed looking?" Mordred replied sarcastically.

Garet turned guilty, "It wasn't just that you looked upset, you just seemed so much more . . . withdrawn. You hardly ever spoke to Ninianne or anyone, apparently you just sat in your chambers sending or receiving letters all day." Mordred didn't reply, he didn't remember acting that differently- how could he have been so obvious? "But that's not important now." Garet said quickly "We have a feast to enjoy and others to entertain. That and I have to make sure Agravaine doesn't drink all the wine." They both turned and saw Agravaine merrily making his way to his third or fourth goblet as his face got redder and redder. Luckily for everyone near him, Agravaine was good at holding his drink, at least until he reached his ninth drink.

Mordred told Garet "That's a good plan for now, but do make sure to find some time to enjoy yourself alright? He won't get too drunk, not today, not when everyone else is on their best behaviour. If he does become trouble, we can just throw him in his room." Garet gave a weak laugh and took his leave. Mordred watched him as Garet instantly went to Stephan and Moira and started talking with such speed it was if they hadn't seen each other in years. Mordred then took his chance to speak with more of the leaders while he was free to move around. At the feast table he'd only be able to talk with those sat nearest to him, meaning what he could say was limited and that he could only talk about what they wanted and needed to hear. As he moved around each guest and each representative, he noticed that a few of them were accompanied by young maidens, all of which he had to be personally introduced to. He didn't even have to think why. All of them were pretty in some way, all of them the ideal princess and wife in the eyes of some. None of them could compare with Moira. They were too much the same, too meek. He mentally chuckled, a few years ago that would have been perfect- with Moira he couldn't imagine or want her any different. The only thing he wanted to, and eventually would change was that they would no longer have to hide.

She would be a good queen, he thought. She would be able to take command over herself and a kingdom, if it had to be so. Not that he planned on going on any foolish crusade for a grail like Arthur, he'd like to think he was more practical than that. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. "My lord." Moira gave a perfect curtsey, without even meeting his eyes. He couldn't understand why but he felt his cheeks flare- both shocked and embarrassed to see her act like that.

"You can rise Moira."

She straightened up and instantly told him what was on her mind. "Guinevere is here and someone is making her less than welcome, they are making Lancelot even less welcome too, for that matter."

Guinevere! Who would invite her? He thought she had taken the veil. He started to scan the room trying to pick out her face when he caught her standing on her own by the door. Only a few steps away was Lancelot who was with Gawain. Mordred noticed that there was a particularly lonely expression on her face, but he believed that it was because as high queen she had had servants and ladies-in-waiting attend on her all day and all night. Mordred couldn't say he was happy to see her- she had been the one who had called him a bastard through incest and then convinced Arthur to never declare him as heir. She was as responsible for Arthur's downfall as much as he was, if not more. "I haven't noticed anything." he said plainly. "How did she get here?"

"The way most people came. Either on horseback or carried in a litter." Moira told him, clearly not impressed by his lack of reaction.

Mordred almost snorted. "How would someone who lives in a nunnery get a litter? And I know for a fact that she wouldn't come riding on horseback. In all my time at Camelot before- before I became king, she would never even ride a Palfrey, she fears the world too much."

"She doesn't live in a nunnery anymore obviously, you have to be a nun. Something which she isn't. She lives in her family home in the Summer country and as for fearing the world too much, she's lived through things men couldn't understand."

Mordred knew what she was talking about, Guinevere's kidnap by Maleagant was something well-known among the older knights. For him and his half-brothers, it had been just another story to show the goodliness of King Arthur and the bravery of Lancelot who had been the one to rescue her. "Well that explains something, but it doesn't explain why she was invited or why you think I should intervene." he said quietly.

Moira looked down at the floor guiltily. "I suggested to Lancelot that he should invite her, before the tournament." she murmured. Then she instantly threw her head back and she was defiant and daring once more "If it had been you and me in their position Mordred, wouldn't you have wanted someone to understand and do something about it?"

"Yes." he admitted, feeling more than defeated.

"There you have it. I'm not expecting any of you to make friends but you can at least make sure Agravaine doesn't insult Guinevere or Lancelot _again. _Besides, I still don't think it's fair what happened to them, it could have very easily been us given only slightly different circumstances."

"Again? You mean Agravaine has insulted them here, now?" Mordred asked. It wouldn't surprise him if Agravaine had insulted Lancelot in private but to insult Guinevere out loud and where many could over-hear him, it was just pig-headed. "Fine. I'll speak to him, maybe even get him out of his goblet if I'm lucky."

Moira curtsied again, "My lord." and she was gone.

Mordred saw Agravaine and headed straight towards him, half wanting to strangle him for being an idiot, half grateful to him for giving Moira a reason to come and speak to him. "Agravaine, if you've quite finished drinking the world dry I would like to have a word." Mordred said. Agravaine grunted in a response, but he wasn't too drunk yet. His eyes were still focused on Mordred. They walked to one of the doorways where there were less guests standing nearby. "Agravaine, please tell me you didn't say something too dangerous to Lancelot."

Agravaine smirked and answered "If I did, it was nothing more than the truth."

Mordred didn't have the patience to play around, his half-gratitude had vanished quicker than sand through a sieve. "Don't Agravaine. Just keep your opinions to yourself, and for the love of the gods stop drinking. You stink of alcohol."

Agravaine frowned, "He insulted us first."

Mordred snorted, if Lancelot had insulted 'them', it wouldn't have been hard to blame him. "What did he say?"

Agravaine scowled and his fists started to curl. "That we couldn't accuse Guinevere of being a whore, and that every woman needs her knight." Agravaine said.

Mordred's stomach turned to lead "What did you say in response to that?"

"That he was a filthy backstabbing liar and a cheat and-"

Mordred told him to be quiet. People had started to look at them as Agravaine's insults got louder. "Ignore him Agravaine, there will be no fighting here, not now. There has been enough blood spilled to get us here and I won't have any more."

"But Mordred-"

"I said enough!"

At that particular moment, the one person who could only make Agravaine more bad tempered decided to greet them. "My lord, my lord Agravaine." Lamorak said before disappearing at the murderous gleam in Agravaine's eye

"He's your age." Agravaine said to him.

Mordred's stomach started to churn the lead until Mordred felt almost nauseous. It was true, Lamorak was his own age perhaps a year younger and yet Morgause chose him. If she had chosen someone her own age, and wasn't so obviously . . . involved, Mordred could have understood it. Yet she was his mother, therefore he couldn't criticise- not out loud. "It doesn't matter Agravaine, just let it be."

Agravaine snorted. "Why should I? It's our honour as well as hers that's at stake. I won't let her play a fool. Besides, she hasn't let you have your way with your girl now has she?"

"I don't want anything more to do with Ninianne so leave the topic alone." Mordred told him, wanting to leave.

Agravaine guffawed loudly. "No not her. Moira, your little peasant. You can't even talk with her, let alone bed her."

THUMP! There were a few gasps and shocked whispers as Agravaine put his hand to the bloody lip Mordred had given him. There was blood pounding in his ears and throbbing in his temple as Mordred looked at his half-brother, white hot with anger. Agravaine was confused and certainly angry but he said nothing as he wiped his lip with his sleeve, and hurried away. Mordred stood still, not turning away from the spot where his eyes were fixed until there was a normal level of noise again.

Chapter twelve: Moira

The only bad thing that had come out of Mordred hitting Agravaine, was that after all the guests had gone Morgause came to him and furiously reproached him. "What in the gods name were you thinking of Mordred?" she hissed at him in his chamber. "What did your own brother do to be beaten? In public no less. Don't you remember what I've taught you or can't you understand my lessons? Image is one of the most powerful weapons a king has so you must-"

"I do remember mother and I do understand so leave it 'til morning." he didn't want to hear another sermon on why it had been a mistake, he had already got one from Gawain and even Moira had given him a look that said "That was unwise."

"If that is true then why did you do it?"

"Because he insulted a friend of mine, along with others."

"So! He was drunk. He always insults someone when he's drunk."

"He also managed to insult you." Morgause froze. Mordred could tell that had hit a nerve, he reckoned she had never thought it possible her own sons would find fault with her. "You can't complain about what I do in public when what you do in private is overall much worse."

Morgause blushed. "Enough talk about that, at least all anyone has is gossip. What you did as High King will be known throughout Briton. Not to mention what happened with Ninianne, you seem to be turning on your own family nowadays. How can you after everything we have been through together?"

That made him only more bitter "Forgive me but you were the one who told me I had to remove Arthur from the throne. He was your half-brother as well as my father but that never bothered you." She jumped as his voice got louder "It was me who had to look him in the eye and then kill him when the time came. You were still in Orkney when it all happened. I was alone."

Mordred had wanted her to appear guilty and comfort him. To his horror all his mother did was huff impatiently and say "If you had wanted to avoid that, you could have sent Agravaine to do it."

"You were the one who told me it was _my_ destiny to kill Arthur or was that just talk."

"No." she growled, just as tense as he was. "Now you have been acting strangely ever since . . . ever since you became High King. Everyone can see it. Is it becoming the High King too much? If so all you need do is trust the less important tasks to someone like one of your brothers or-"

"You?" Mordred said, seeing a glimmer of greed in her, knowing full well that was what she wanted. At Orkney she had always been the power behind Lot and now she wanted to have it the same way with him. "It won't be like that mother. I can handle this by myself and will continue to do so." He pointed to the door "Now please leave me." Morgause was visibly disappointed but held her head high as she left.

Once he was lying in his bed, he tried not to think about what would happen when (there was no 'if' in Mordred's mind) Ninianne told someone about what she had seen. She had never been good at keeping secrets, not for very long or if she felt she was under pressure to say something, then she would go and find someone she thought she could trust- who would that be? Morgause of course. He ran his hand over his face, he would have to tell her before she found out through Ninianne, he would much rather confront Morgause than have her come and kick up a storm. Only he would make sure he told her after Moira had gone because when she had heard it, she would go and screech and scream at Moira along with anyone else who managed to annoy her. Mordred remembered too clearly the day Morgause had discovered the affair between Lot and one of her serving maids. The girl had been whipped, dismissed, and then ridiculed whenever Morgause and one of her servants saw her. The fact that Lot was no stranger to infidelity, rather like Morgause had had no affect on her decision or temper. He couldn't allow that to happen to Moira! Mordred doubted Morgause would try something as obvious as a beating or open insults once she knew how he felt- she'd try something more devious like make it seem she was unfaithful or tell her that he was unfaithful. He'd seen her do both to servant maids that she thought were dawdling in their work because they had lovers. It would _not_ be the same story here. Mordred would make sure of it. He pulled the cover over his head hoping that he would be able to sleep well that night.

The next morning as he watched most of the guests leave through the wooden gates (a boring but easy process as he just had to keep repeating his farewells, the only thing that changed each time was who he addressed and what destination.) Moira came and stood beside him. Much to his joy, Stephan had told him that they would be leaving a little later than the rest for Garet's sake. Mordred had thought that was a bit odd but was just happy enough to have a few more hours with Moira. She waited until he finished speaking with the last king, who was giving the sword at her belt an odd look, before she said "They are getting suspicious."

"Who?"

"Lucas, Stephan already knows though I didn't tell him, he just guessed. The rest are gossiping amongst themselves and Lucas was very happy to tell them that you showed, and these are his words, 'particular interest' in me when you visited his castle."

"How did you hear that?"

"I find the most interesting conversations are said when men are drunk and the person they are talking about is out of sight."

Another king presented himself to hear and say his farewells so Moira had to wait before Mordred could say "Do you think _she_ can keep her mouth shut?"

Moira shook her head miserably "Not for very long. I could never trust her to keep from telling the teachers that I was gone. I used to think they would force it out of her but after the fourth time . . ." she shook her head again. "I hate this" she whispered, "I've been beaten and moved around from town to town, always living like a hermit but this-"

For a moment Mordred pushed away the thoughts of what would happen if someone saw them. "I know Moira, I hate this too but if we can just wait a little longer then everything will work out in our favour."

She gave a little laugh "You make it sound like we are going to war."

"We are going to have a battle of sorts between us and the self-declared high queen before anything can happen." Mordred sighed.

Moira cocked her head "And what exactly is going to happen?" Another leader interrupted them. He obviously knew he'd disturbed them and much to Mordred and Moira's surprise he apologised (despite Moira claiming he hadn't) and bowed to her before he left. "That was unexpected." she said flatly as she watched him go "I very rarely get anyone show me respect of that sort- not that I want them to. I'm just pleasantly surprised."

"If I had my way, you'd get more than that as a show of respect." Mordred told her. She blushed- she was even more beautiful when she blushed. "I mean that."

Moira gave a small nod "I had better go. Stephan will wonder where I am." She gave him a small bow and went past Ninianne as she headed inside. Ninianne's face told him that she had come to talk with him and why. She stood by the door until the last of the kings and leaders had gone-she was obviously feeling patient that day.

"What bothers you Ninianne?" Mordred asked, walking towards her although he pretty much already knew.

Ninianne was red-eyed. She had been crying that much he could tell. He did feel some sympathy for her situation but he was more concerned for Moira at that moment than anyone else. "I have kept my word" Ninianne sniffled "But I still don't understand why I should. Or why you are with her of all the women you could choose, you chose a peasant! Someone who barely knows you, someone you don't even know!"

"I know how she feels about me, that is enough."

"But-"

"Can we talk about this inside?" he said. Agravaine who was also standing by the door was giving him the most hate-filled glare Mordred had ever seen Agravaine give while Ninianne was drawing too much attention from the others.

This just made her worse. "Very well, if my lord insists." she wept loudly. Mordred held in a groan (another thing he loved about Moira was that she could keep her emotions under control most of the time), put his arm around her shoulders, and led her towards his chambers.

Once there, he removed his arm from her like they'd been burned and said "Ninianne, I don't care what Moira is-"

"You should do."

"-And I don't care what you, mother or anyone else thinks. I love her, she loves me. What else is there to understand?"

"Why it wasn't me!" she wailed, "That's what no-one will understand. Your mother, she won't accept this. She'll never accept Moira- she is a Christian and a peasant!"

"I don't care. Why should anyone care what Moira is? What wrong has she ever done you or me?"

"The Christians preach the subjugation of women! They were the first to oppose your claim as heir! They were the ones who called your birth an abomination and your mother a witch!" That had been true. Arthur's or Guinevere's bishop had been set against him from the start. But Moira wasn't like that so Mordred told her so. Ninianne swallowed "She's just using you, can't you see? She's using you to further her own security and her own religion."

"Oh! And no-one else has done that?" Mordred retorted. "My mother felt cheated from the throne and now she's got what she wanted- through me! Moira has never even suggested anything on how I rule, other than that I use tolerance. Tolerance of everyone, Saxon, Jute, Celt, Angles, Christian and Pagan. Mother wants a pure Briton pagan nation Ninianne you know that."

"Than why is it that she never asked you to do anything?"

Mordred shrugged, he wasn't interested as to why Morgause hadn't told him to go against the Christians yet. Either she was biding her time or she was simply distracted with Lamorak. Anyhow it was not the case of that she had forgotten her dislike of Christians, no-one had been allowed to worship Christianity in Orkney. There were no churches to be built and any priest or Christian who came to visit would soon be sent back by threat of force. "I have no idea but that's not important. You can't tell Morgause what you know, I have to do that."

Ninianne hiccupped "You don't really think she'll ever accept Moira into her family. Moira has no parents to give you a dowry, and even if they were alive they could give you nothing of value. She has no family, no knowledge of the court, nothing!"

"I don't want a dowry. I am high king. I have no need of more land or power, and though Morgause and Agravaine may not like her, everyone else does including Garet and Gawain so they'll just have to learn to like her."

Ninianne ignored him and pulled the door open. Agravaine stood there, the bruise from where Mordred had punched him was a brilliant shade of purple. "What is the matter here Ninianne? Mordred hasn't broken your heart, has he?" Ninianne ran past him, now sobbing so loudly that anyone could hear her. She had always been dramatic. Agravaine smirked "I bet you told her didn't you?" he didn't wait for Mordred to answer, "Good timing too. Mother just set Lucas and your girl off back to Londonium. Only after Garet found her in Lamorak's chambers of course."

**-0-**

"Because I didn't see why she and her company could dawdle round Camelot when all those of importance had already left." was Morgause's answer when Mordred asked her why she had sent them away without telling him later that afternoon. Lamorak gave a small laugh, he clearly thought Morgause's sense of humour entertained all. He was sorely mistaken. None of the Orkney brothers had thought it funny that Morgause had spent the rest of the day in only the company of Lamorak. Agravaine had found it especially infuriating. He kept complaining to all his brothers that he could see the servants and fellow knights gossiping and laughing at them. Mordred wasn't in the mood to tell him he was just paranoid, although he had heard one servant tutting about Morgause's 'unladylike' attitude but he attributed it to the servant having to repair a small tear in Morgause's dresses. The tear had been from the top of the neck line to the top of the chest- it made him feel nauseous just looking at it. Mordred gestured for Lamorak to go. If there was ever a time for him to tell her the truth, it was now. Not just to get rid of any delusions she had about him marrying someone of her choice but to wipe the lustful expression from her face as she watched Lamorak go.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the storm of a temper that was bound to come. "Mother, there is something I need to tell you."

"What is it?" she said from her cosy chair.

"It's something very important to me. Something that will anger you but you have to try to understand, for my sake, for my kingdom's sake. You have to promise you won't be angry at anyone else but me as well."

"What is it?" she sternly asked again.

"I won't marry Ninianne mother, nor can I marry someone of your choice." When she didn't react, he continued "Mother, I have found someone I think would be a good wife and a good queen-"

"Have you asked her to marry you? Have you talked about it?"

"No. We-"

"Who is she? Do we know her family? What is she like?"

"We don't know her family as her parents are dead. As for what she's like, you know what she is like. You have met her." Morgause frowned, not comprehending. This would be the hard part, just as difficult as it had been to explain his plan for removing Arthur to Agravaine. "Mother, I'm talking about Moira."

As he'd expected, there was a shocked silence before "WHAT! HOW COULD YOU?" he let her scream and rant at him until she had shouted herself hoarse and he would be able to make his voice heard.

"Mother, I know you aren't fond of her but over time you'll see that she is a good woman, that she means you no ill will." Morgause continued to shout and screech at him that he was betraying the family, that Moira was of no value, that Moira could never achieve anything in the kingdom and that he should have chosen a princess or lady with a large dowry to bring stability to his kingdom. He waited again till she stopped for breath "Mother, I understand that but this is different. Arthur and Guinevere married for politics and see where it led them. Moira is a good woman and I think she'd make a good queen too. She's always fair and kind to the servants, she understands how a good kingdom is run and if that doesn't convince you, then think of it like this. The people want a king and queen they can look up to and respect. What better queen than someone who understands them, someone who knows what they have been through, someone who knows what they want."

Morgause scoffed at him "Who is interested in what the commoners think? So long as you can command their respect and loyalty then what else is there to worry about. If they hear you married for love, as you call it, they'll take you for a lovesick boy."

Mordred ignored her. He had been prepared for her refusal. "If that is what they'll say, then I can't change that. For now, everything stays the same. I just wanted to let you know." Mordred told Morgause.

"I won't have a peasant bearing my grandchildren Mordred! I won't have a peasant's children sit on the throne. She will never be welcomed at Camelot by me! I'll curse her with every curse I can think of. She will have no rest from my hate of her. She's nothing but a peasant and a Christian one at that!" she snarled.

"Then why did you encourage Garet to marry her?"

"Because he was young and she'd be kept away from you. Because she'd never inherit anything of worth!"

Mordred nearly shouted at her. However he kept himself calm and told himself that so long as Moira was with Stephan and out of Morgause's reach then she would be fine. Besides, for every curse she would throw, Mordred reckoned that his prayers and Garet's combined could keep her safe if he truly wanted to be superstitious. "That's your opinion mother, just your opinion. All the others of Camelot love her so when she comes here, you'll be the only one who doesn't welcome her."

"WHEN SHE COMES HERE! When is she coming here?"

Mordred thought it best to leave her to calm down but not before he said "I'm not sure. Whenever we want her to come here to stay. Permanently."

Lamorak had been waiting outside. He'd probably over heard everything said in there. Mordred guessed he had never Morgause shout like that. "Is the lady well my lord?" Lamorak asked.

"She's just found out her plans aren't going as well as she'd hoped, that's all Lamorak. I'll leave you to comfort her." Lamorak quickly nodded and went inside. Mordred went straight to his chambers, he could feel a cold sweat on his brow and wanted some peace to dull the shrieking that still rang in his ears.

**-0-**

Mordred started having nightmares from the minute he fell asleep. Some of them involved Arthur killing him at Calmlan, others involved him waking up in a field of blood. All of them involved Moira. Either she was standing as a witness or she was lying cold and dead on the ground. After each one he would wake up sweating, unable to understand why he felt so afraid for Moira before he remembered. The next time he woke, it wasn't because of a nightmare- he could hear shouting. He jumped out of bed and grabbed his sword. He could by now distinguish Agravaine's voice, along with two others, male and female. Mordred guessed them to be Lamorak and Morgause seeing as they were coming from her chambers. A few servants were filling up the corridors wondering what was going on. As he turned the door way, Mordred heard a scream, the sound of metal hitting flesh, then a horrible wailing.

Lamorak was dead. Mordred could already tell. As he entered Mordred saw Lamorak lying on the floor with his throat slit and worse utterly naked. Agravaine was trying to reason with Morgause who was still in her bed, the sheets wrapped around her. "You bastard child. I hate you. I hate all of you!" she wept to Agravaine. Agravaine was drunk, he was wobbling slightly.

"Agravaine come away." Mordred said quietly. There could be a blood feud over this, Lamorak's family were never going to forgive Agravaine. Agravaine didn't move. He was listening to Morgause's continued insults and curses.

"I hate you, I hate you, I will never see you again. I hope you rot and die! I hate you! I wish I had never given birth to you! You should have been left to rot on the field. I wish you had died! You killed him! You killed my love-" Mordred saw what Agravaine was going to do before he did it.

"AGRAVAINE NO!"

"I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU, I-" Agravaine's sword cut cleanly through her neck.

Mordred's mind went blank. He could have been sick. The thud of his mother's head hitting the floor echoed around the room. Every drop of blood dripping of Agravaine's sword onto the floor was ten times louder. "Agravaine" Mordred whispered "What have you done?"

Agravaine was white as death and swaying when he said "He insulted our mother's honour. Our honour. You would have done the same. I had to do something. It was self defence what I did. He attacked me first Mordred. Mordred . . . you do believe me don't you. Don't you brother?"

Mordred looked at his mother's lifeless body. Her unseeing eyes were accusing, still wet with tears over Lamorak. A pain in his chest began to grow and prick it's way into his heart. Mordred had to swallow back the few tears and point at Agravaine and say "Go! And never return Agravaine." Enough blood had been spilt. Agravaine ran past him leaving Mordred with the bodies. Mordred tried not to think about what would happen when Gawain and Garet heard about their mother's death or what Lamorak's family would do. He went outside, neatly avoiding the puddle of blood coming from Lamorak's neck and called in a male servant who was standing nearby. He must have known what had happened because he was just as pale as Agravaine had been. "Find Gawain and Garet straight away. Tell them that their mother is dead and so is Lamorak. Tell no-one else." he said hoarsely.

The servant nodded then asked gently "My lord, should I send someone to tend to the bodies?"

"No. I'll do it for now." The servant hurried off, quickly telling the others they must return to bed. Mordred turned back inside slowly and went to pick up the pile of clothes that were Lamorak's and draped them over him. Once that was done he went to pick up his mother's head and place it by her body. He found that more difficult than he'd expected, not only because his clumsy fingers struggled to keep a firm grip on the bloody head but because the tears were blurring his vision. A hundred thoughts and memories flashed through his mind. Had she forgiven him for loving Moira? Would she have understood? He would never know. When Gawain and Garet arrived, they arrived just in time to see Mordred let out one very small sob. They demanded to know what had happened so Mordred told them, not caring if his tale of events seemed unsympathetic. When Gawain asked him why Mordred had let Agravaine go, Mordred couldn't explain why. "Because- because I had to."

Garet was sobbing uncontrollably. Gawain had never looked so lost, not even when they had uncovered Lancelot's affair with the queen. Sorrow turned to anger in him. "Where is the murderer now?" Gawain asked.

"I don't know."

"How long since he left?"

"Barely a few minutes. Don't chase after him though. We need to tend to the funeral."

"He is right Gawain." Both Gawain and Mordred stared at Garet. "Agravaine will get his punishment sooner or later but we . . ." he gulped loudly "we must do what is honourable and lay them to rest."

"We will Garet." Mordred said.

"Who will tend to the bodies?"

"I'll deal with Lamorak's. Ninianne and a few of her close serving women will prepare mother's body for the funeral." Mordred told Gawain. Ninianne would want to do it, Mordred told them, she'd want to be the last person to say goodbye to Morgause.

"Should I go and find her?" Garet offered.

"Yes." Mordred and Gawain chorused. Poor Ninianne Mordred thought, Morgause had been a second mother to her.

Gawain asked him "When will the funeral be?" once Garet was gone.

"Soon. Five days from now maybe." Mordred thought that would be a decent amount of time to prepare the funeral feasts and those who had to come. Those who had known Morgause and Lamorak's family needed to come. Mordred nearly started crying again at the thought of what his family would do when they found out. They'd hunt Agravaine down to the ends of the world. So would Gawain. It was what tradition and family honour dictated.

**-0-**

The five days had seemed just long enough for Mordred to send messengers to Lamorak's family and make sure Gawain didn't go tearing after Agravaine like he promised to do every time Agravaine was mentioned. But then they seemed to drag on and on and on. Ninianne had wailed when she saw Morgause till all of Camelot had come running to know what had happened. All of them had been shocked, all of them had said nearly the same thing "I knew Agravaine had been upset, but I never though he would . . ." and the descriptions of what he had done would begin. It was sickening. There was no difference between morning and evening anymore- just one grey stretch. Even the prospect of Moira (at his invitation) coming couldn't shake the grief from him. To add to that, when Ninianne had found out somehow that Moira was coming for the funeral, she yelled at him that bringing Moira was an insult to Morgause's memory.

"Even if that's true, she's still coming. Everyone who is able to must come." he told her. Mordred no longer felt any sympathy for her situation. He could no longer feel anything other than regret, a lot of sorrow and much to his shock, at least once a bubble of relief. He had been so shocked by it he tried to keep his emotions clear rather than admit feeling anything. The days dragged by. Figures appeared but the one person who could have helped him get through this wasn't there. Moira hadn't arrived yet. Mordred had to repeat the same monotonous process of greeting them and preparing the mourners as if this was a feast and then accepting their condolences and sympathy. Sympathy he didn't want.

Four. Three. Two. One. The day of the funeral arrived. The weather perfectly matched his mood- dark and grey. The bodies and the funeral pyres were ready (he'd checked over them countless times.). Those who had responsibility for the bodies had attempted stitching Morgause's head back to her body. Yet they were ugly and large and horrible contrast with the whiteness of her skin. It made him doubly nauseous and every time he and one of his half-brothers, he would have to leave on his own. Black banners hung from every wall. At least Moira had come. On the morning of the funeral both her and Stephan, dressed sombrely in black like everyone else. She was as ashen as everyone else. He somehow felt glad that Moira wasn't glad or pleased at Morgause's death, despite their history. Mordred didn't think it would be wise to tell her that Morgause had most likely hated her to her last breath.

"I'm so sorry." she said with her arms around his neck once they were alone. Moira had taken his hand and led him straight up to his chambers. The other guests had been scandalised but Mordred couldn't care less what they thought. "It's a horrible thing to go through, I understand." she kissed his cheek "How can I help? Tell me. Tell me what you need."

"I just need you to be here. That's all." he mumbled into her shoulder.

"That I will make sure of." Moira said while holding him tighter. "How are Garet and Gawain taking this?"

"As well as they can."

"And Lamorak's family? How have they taken this?"

Lamorak's father king Pellinore was the only one who was getting more pitying looks than he was, although Mordred thought that was more due to pity for where his son was killed. Fortunately Pellinore wasn't as angry as he was deep in mourning. "I'm so sorry for your loss my lord." Pellinore had said to him.

"They have taken this as best as they could. So far no demands for Agravaine's head to be put on a spear." Mordred told her.

"He's probably left the country by now." That was what Mordred told Gawain and Lancelot, who also wanted to see Agravaine 'brought to justice' mostly out of Lancelot's liking of Lamorak.

"I know but I don't care where he is now or what he does."

Moira gave him a watery smile. "That is a good way to leave things- for now. We need to lay them to rest before any- anything else can happen." He kissed her then rested his forehead on hers. After a moment she asked "How long away is it?"

"An hour."

Moira sighed. "We should go back. They'll wonder where we are- and what we are doing."

"Do you really care what they think?"

"Your family is down there and they will want to see you. I know when my parents died I wanted someone who knew them as well to keep me company. So I knew that it wasn't just me who would mourn them."

"What happened to the rest of your family?" Mordred asked. There was still so much he didn't know about her past. "They were killed by Saxons along with my parents. I then got taken by a wealthy noble woman out of pity, to the house where Ninianne and other young girls were trained. You know of course I ran away and I met, or more truthfully was saved by a priest. I told him about my family and he found some of them but- they had enough to worry about. That was the last I ever saw of them."

Mordred was interested, maybe that was her intention. "And then?"

"So rather than leave me to be a burden to them, he taught me and what he couldn't teach me, he found others to do it. Then when I was seventeen, he died and I became a traveller."

"What did you then?" he could busy his mind with what Moira would say rather than what was waiting for him downstairs.

As they went back down she told him about everywhere she had been, which had been most of Briton. Her tales continued to keep his mind busy, even as they went outside to set the pyres alight. Then he saw the bodies and he was brought back to the truth of the situation. Moira had gone to walk by Stephan so Mordred led the procession. Garet and Gawain followed behind him. He was getting nearer and nearer, colder and colder, sadder and sadder. This hadn't been what he'd wanted. The cold wind that was blowing was freezing his fingers. He arrived at the two identical pyres, both littered with heather and lavender. Morgause's body was wrapped in a deep blue shroud while Lamorak's was purple. The two torch bearers handed the flames that were to burn the last remains of Morgause and Lamorak. Usually there was only one but this was a very unusual funeral- two bodies, two families mourning. Mordred took one and Pellinore took the other. There were tears streaming down his face. They both stepped closer. Mordred took one last look at the face of his mother before touching the flame to the pyre. It flared up within seconds. Mordred placed the torch over the body. His mother holding his hand as a child, his mother preventing Lot from hitting him in front of a crowd, his mother congratulating him on completing his training. It all hit him leaving him no choice but to cry. Despite everything that he had been through, despite what everyone knew of her, Morgause had been his mother and he was her son. The flames were feet high. He waited for everyone to leave, determined to stay behind longer than King Pellinore. He had several sons. Mordred had only one mother. Time passed. He could hear the footsteps of others leaving the site, no doubt they were heading back to the castle to either drown their sorrows or tell each other tales of the two deceased. The smoke was clouding his eyes, making them sting even more. He waited until even Pellinore was taken back by one of his younger sons. Someone stepped up beside him. Moira slipped her hand inside his and waited with him until both the pyres had died out.

Chapter thirteen: Phoenix

Ninianne was fuming beneath her black veil when Mordred and Moira entered hand in hand. But as Mordred saw it, they no longer had any reason to hide. No more would he have to tip toe round Ninianne's feelings or his mother's temper. Mordred wasn't sure whether he was happy about that or saddened so he didn't dwell on it. Gawain and Garet barely gave them a glance, they had known about it for some time now, Mordred could guess. The other knights gave them a mixture of grins, solemn nods and respectful gestures. Moira kept squeezing his hand whenever someone looked at her. Mordred could understand why. There would be gossip about her for weeks, and some of it wouldn't be pleasant about her. They made their way to the middle of the hall where the round table was covered in a black cloth under many plates of chicken, quail and other hand foods. Mordred poured them both a drink and when he raised his goblet, the whispers that had started from when he and Moira entered stopped. "To Morgause." he claimed.

"To Morgause." the hall chorused back.

He raised his goblet over to where Pellinore and his family stood. "To Lamorak."

"To Lamorak."

Everyone tipped their goblets to drink except Moira who gave her drink a small sip. She had told him she didn't like drinking too much wine in one gulp, she had said it made her throat dry. Mordred nearly smiled but then he sobered up. His mother had said something similar once, at a feast in Orkney. Lot had wanted very strong wine and Morgause hadn't. Lot of course won the argument, and hardly any water was poured into the mixture. All the guests had headaches the next morning. The guests Mordred had in his hall now were again talking. Many of them were giving their condolences to either Gawain or Pellinore. Mordred liked it like that. The less attention he got, the better he felt.

"So what happens now?" Moira could have been talking about them or what happened next at the funeral.

"To what?"

"The guests. Where do they go? What do the families do?" Mordred looked at her. "I've never been to a funeral like this before." she explained.

"We wait for them to finish talking then we wait for them to take their seats. Then I give a speech, then they talk a bit more and hopefully most of them will be gone by sunset."

"Ah. Can't you just tell them to take a seat? They can gossip while they eat. I've seen them do it."

"It's considered protocol. I've seen it at Lot's funeral, although there were certainly fewer people to actually mourn him. Give them a couple of minutes." Mordred said.

"I'd much prefer to give them a kick up the backside or maybe a poke in the eye. You know half of them didn't care about Morgause or Lamorak. They're just here for the food and the gossip." Moira growled.

Mordred didn't try to stop himself from laughing a little "As always, you are observant. Come to think of it, we'll start now." and he went to take his place on the throne. That was the sign for them to sit. Moira took the seat on his right, earning a few more hisses as it was where Morgause had often sat. Ninianne could have boiled someone alive with the glare she was giving Moira. It was actually impressive how

she was going from tears to hate within seconds. Mordred knew it would get worse when she found out that Moira would be staying in Camelot forever. But that would wait till later, it was going to be his surprise for Moira. That was if she hadn't already guessed it. It would be something to make him happy and feel alive again. It would also bring Camelot itself out of its misery. For some reason that made him wonder where Lucas was. "Where is Lucas? I'm sure he would have come, even if he wasn't wanted."

Moira grinned "Poor Lucas was accidentally maliciously beaten to a pulp by some unknown culprit. Stephan tells me he wants to know who he was but I think its only because he wants to congratulate whoever it was." she said proudly.

"What did he do to deserve that?"

"I have absolutely no idea. But it could have been something to do with the fact that he was spreading nasty rumours about some woman he knew better than any gossip filled girl I have ever met. I'm not entirely sure though, it could have been a number of reasons."

Mordred was going to ask for more details but then he remembered the speech he had to make. He tapped his fork against the goblet. He stood, trying to ignore the stares he was getting. Mordred kept the blush off his face. "My friends, my family. It is a most saddening event that brings us all here today. Many of us will feel the loss of such great and well-known figures such as the lady Morgause and the knight and prince Lamorak for many years to come." Pellinore wiped his face again. He was crying. "Both families loved and were loved by the ones we have lost and we have learned many things from their love that will ensure Camelot and it's greatness and everything it stands for will remain throughout all eternity. Even though we can no longer feel them, see them nor hear them, they live on through us." Ninianne sobbed, her indignation at Moira's presence temporarily forgotten. Mordred could see both Garet and Gawain were sitting dry eyed, slightly annoyed by Ninianne's crying. To them, she had nothing to cry about, her blood family were still alive. To them Ninianne had lost nothing but a teacher, and her display of tears was hardly something Morgause would have encouraged. Morgause had hated the sound of crying. Mordred tried to plough on with his speech "The sorrow we feel may feel as if it will last forever but given time we shall be able to look back on our memories of Morgause and Lamorak and smile without pain." Would Moira ever think of Morgause and be able to smile? Not likely. "We all hope that they find the peace and happiness that they deserve in the next life and may they hear our prayers and fond thoughts of them be heard. May the memory of Lamorak and Morgause live on." Mordred raised his goblet for another toast. "In memory of Lamorak and Morgause."

"In memory of Lamorak and Morgause!" came the reply.

**-0-**

"Has Gawain or any of Pellinore's family mentioned anything about revenge?" Moira asked Mordred as they watched the leaving guests.

"Fortunately for all of us, no."

She sighed in relief. "That's some good news. These blood feuds can wipe out entire generations all because of the actions of a few. I'm glad to know it's not going to happen here," Moira kissed his cheek. "Because you know if that did happen, I would have to come and save you again." she smiled at him. Mordred couldn't help it- he smiled back, he was feeling brighter the more time he spent with her and it could only get better from there, he hoped. Mordred had already told her that she would be staying a little longer, as it would help him deal with everything. He hadn't told her he planned on sending Stephan to bring all their belongings back to Camelot.

"I feel so sorry for Pellinore more than anyone else Moira." Mordred told her. "Lamorak was his favourite son and he still doesn't know why his son was killed."

Moira bit her lip and said "Doesn't he? Though I suppose that might be wise . . ."

Before Pellinore had left for his home, Mordred had taken him aside and asked him if there was anything Mordred or any of his half-brothers could do to make the pain easier. He'd asked this with blood-gelt in mind thinking that if anyone in his family wanted to take revenge, the blood-gelt would dissuade them. Mordred had then asked him if there were any bad feelings on how his son was killed. He hadn't been sure how to ask him any other way. "There is no more misery for me other than my son is dead," Pellinore had said "Agravaine chose to fight him for a reason I don't know of but all that matters to me is that my son Lamorak is gone." When Mordred realised Pellinore didn't know the full details, he thought it was best to leave the topic alone. Telling him where and why his son was killed would only make the pain worse and Mordred had no desire increase Pellinore's suffering.

"Do you think that was fair on him? I didn't think it would help telling him all that had happened but-"

"I really don't know Mordred. This time I really don't have any idea what to do." Moira answered him.

"They say he was already getting weaker before Lamorak died. Gawain thinks that informing him might finish him."

Moira ran a hand through her hair. "Maybe he is right. I have nothing to do or say Mordred so please don't ask me. I'm as confused and lost as anyone else here."

"My lord. Moira." Moira flinched. Ninianne had appeared at her shoulder. Her red-rimmed eyes were blazing. She gave her small curtsey.

"Ninianne you're going to have to stop surprising us like that." Mordred said jovially, trying to break the tension that was building between the two women.

Ninianne gave him a simpering smile. "My apologies my lord but I was wondering if I may speak with Moira alone."

"Of course you can." Moira replied instantly. Ninianne was visibly disappointed at how calm Moira sounded, which then turned to anger when Mordred kissed Moira's knuckles. He may as well take the chance to let Ninianne know where his affections lay without the use of words. They walked of, with Ninianne questioning Moira in seconds while Moira was still slightly pink from his gesture. Mordred faced the gate again. The last of the guests and well-wishers had gone with the great gates of Camelot closing at their backs. The sky was now turning into a mixture of pink and blue causing Mordred to think of Morgause and Lamorak again. Whatever the afterlife was like, he hoped that they were together and happy in it. Feeling positive he went back inside.

When he came back into the great hall, however, Mordred's recently gained sense of peace was replaced by shock. Ninianne was standing a few feet from Moira shrieking at the top of her lungs. Quite a few servants were gathered to watch them. Moira mean while was still as a statue. "SHE NEVER WANTED YOU HERE! YOU'R PRESECENCE IS AN INSULT TO HER. YOU ARE THE VERY REASON SHE IS DEAD!"

"ENOUGH!" Mordred bellowed.

Ninianne turned on him "My lord it's true what I say."

"No it's not Ninianne, now control yourself." Mordred said firmly.

"What's going on here?" Garet asked innocently.

"Nothing. Ninianne calm yourself." Mordred said to her. She puffed out her chest, for the first time looking defiant against his wishes. Mordred wanted to tell her that her screeching so soon after they had laid Morgause to rest was more of an insult to Morgause's memory but he kept himself under control.

"How can I? Your mother never wanted her here and now you brazenly welcome her! This is not what your mother would have wanted-"

"I know it's not what she wanted. It's what I wanted. Now again Ninianne I ask you to calm yourself."

Ninianne was hysterical. "What you want? What you want! What about what I want? It was exactly what your mother wanted, what everyone of the Old religion wanted and you've thrown it all away for a Christian peasant!"

Moira stepped in "Ninianne I am sorry for what happened. I-"

Ninianne called her something that even Morgause wouldn't have called Moira in front of others. Obviously Moira was made of sterner stuff than Ninianne as Moira didn't appear at all bothered at what Ninianne had said. It was this that prompted Mordred to do something more drastic. "Ninianne go to your chambers. That is an order from your high king. All others continue with their work."

No-one moved for a moment to see if Ninianne would obey. She did. With a grim face and a dramatic flair that Morgause would have been proud of, she stomped off like a child to her chambers. The servants who had gathered quickly disbanded. Garet stood next to him and voiced exactly what Mordred was thinking "What are you going to do now?"

Now would be a good time to tell Moira he wanted her to stay. She could use something he hoped would be good news. "I'll tell Moira the truth. I want her to stay and Ninianne either can learn how to like her or return to her family home."

Garet hummed thoughtfully. "That is, in the long-term, a very good choice. But how are you going to deal with Ninianne's temper? You know she won't accept Moira, she likes her much less now that Mother is . . . has gone."

"I'll deal with Ninianne the only way I know how. I'll tell her, let her rant at me for an hour then tell her what choices she has. Very few."

Garet snorted. "Well I'll let you inform her then. I'd rather not be near when it happens." Then he walked away towards his own chambers. It was amazing how much Garet had changed. To Mordred it seemed that Garet could no longer be called the baby of the Orkney brothers.

Mordred shook his head and went over to where Moira was still standing. "I'm sorry about Ninianne. She's just not getting things her way but don't worry about her. Trust me she won't bother us for long."

Moira was pleased yet still asked. "What does that mean though? Us? And what do you mean that she won't bother us? I need to know Mordred."

Mordred was surprised by her forwardness "Can we talk about this somewhere else?" Moira nodded.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the nearest unoccupied place he could find. Morgause's chamber. They met a few servants and other knights on the way but each of them stepped aside and didn't say anything. Once they reached Morgause's chambers, Mordred had to pause for a second just to take in the fact that this chamber would never be filled with Morgause's presence ever again. It would never be fully Morgause's chambers again. "Mordred is everything alright?"

"Yes, it's just- nothing. Come on." and he pushed the door open. What he saw made him gasp and let go of her hand. There was no trace of Morgause to be seen, the tapestries had been pulled down and the bed sheets were replaced. The chair she would sit on so she could be by the fire was still there but instead of being buried under cushions it had been stripped down to its wooden frame. There was a scent of both blood and roses in the air. They'd tried to get rid of the stench of what had happened here, and yet it still managed to linger on. Mordred shivered.

"It's horrible isn't it." Moira whispered from behind, "It's almost if they were never here, like someone is deliberately trying to get rid of the memory of them."

"It is . . . but it's what must be done Moira. To start all over again." He turned back at her. Moira looked a little paler. Now was definitely a good time. "Moira, would you stay at Camelot." he paused to see her reaction. Her face was as blank as it had been when she had come in. "You don't have to if you're happier elsewhere but I simply want to know-"

Mordred was cut of by Moira kissing him and throwing her arms around his neck. She answered happily "Yes I'll stay!"

Mordred kissed her back passionately. A warmth spread from his lips down to his fingers then to his toes. Mordred grew joyous again. The prospect of telling Ninianne was less daunting now. "That's the best thing I've heard from anyone for a long time."

"I don't doubt it."

**-0-**

It was agreed that telling Ninianne with Moira present would only make things a lot harder for Mordred to keep under control. So after Mordred went to the servants ordering them to have a room prepared, Mordred had to go to Ninianne's chambers alone.

Mordred knocked gently. "Enter." Ninianne was sitting on a similar chair with cushions exactly like the ones that had been in Morgause's chambers. Her chair was also in the same place as Morgause's had been. Next to the fire. She didn't bother to curtsey which managed to make Mordred relieved. It meant that she wasn't going to bother trying to gain any more sympathy. "My lord."

He shut the door behind him. "Ninianne, it's about Moira."

"If you have come to tell me how wonderful you think she is, you can save your breath." Her rudeness didn't hurt him like he thought it would. Though he had to admit insulting him openly was something he would never have thought her capable of.

"I'm here to tell you that from now on Moira stays at Camelot."

At first Ninianne didn't move, then she turned her chair so she faced the fire and said "I knew this would happen." flatly.

"Then you know you can still stay as a friend . . ." she tutted "However," Mordred continued "You will obviously have to learn to live with Moira. That means no more shrieking arguments, gossiping about her, or ridiculing her."

"And put up with her worshiping her Christian religion everywhere? Let her destroy everything your mother worked for? Your mother put you on the throne so you could stop Christianity spreading, and now what do you do? You bring a Christian lover of yours to Camelot where she'll no doubt end up on the throne!" Ninianne's grip on the chair was tightening, her knuckles were turning white. "I won't live with it. I won't be reminded of my failure every day. You can keep your Christian peasant. Let me have my peace. Let me return to my home. You can even throw me out! I don't care. I will not bow down and call her queen!"

Mordred again felt some sympathy for her but she had made her decision. "Very well. If that is what you wish you can leave whenever you want. But do remember the gates of Camelot will remain open to you." Ninianne didn't reply to that so Mordred decided to leave her be. Maybe she would change her mind, maybe she wouldn't. It was up to her now.

**-0-**

Within two days of their conversation, Mordred had sent Stephan and a few other servants to gather Moira's belongings. When they returned they brought only a handful of things that Moira claimed to be hers. Within three days Ninianne declared in front of the occupants of the Round table that she was returning to her home. Moira tried to convince her to stay. Everyone else simply wished her well on her journey. Ninianne told Moira that she had already prepared for her journey and would not be deterred. Moira volunteered to help her with anything she could. Ninianne civilly refused. By the next day she had gone. She had never looked back once.

Five years later.

A boy. There was a very small boy sitting on his bed when Mordred entered his chambers. The boy was small even for his two years of living but as Mordred had been told not 'unhealthily' so. The boy was copper haired and grey eyed. Moira told the boy he got them from his father.

"Constantine."

Constantine tore his attention away from the two wooden soldiers he had been playing with. "Father."

119


End file.
